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The federal government has extended its lease on a downtown Milwaukee property used by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, according to federal lease records and the building’s owner. 

The property at 310 E. Knapp St. is owned by the Milwaukee School of Engineering but will remain in use by the federal government through at least April 2026, with options to extend through 2028, said JoEllen Burdue, the college’s senior communications director. 

“We do not have immediate plans for the building and will reevaluate next year when we know whether or not the government wants to extend the lease,” Burdue said.

The lease was originally scheduled to expire in April 2025. 

With a new ICE facility under construction on the city’s Northwest Side, the downtown lease extension raises the possibility that the federal government is expanding local immigration infrastructure or enforcement. This would be consistent with other forms of expansion in immigration enforcement, statewide and nationally. 

“I’m upset and concerned about what this means for my immigrant constituency. For my constituents, period,” said Ald. JoCasta Zamarripa, who represents the 8th District on the South Side.

Immigration infrastructure

The Knapp Street property is used by ICE as a field office for its Enforcement and Removal Operations, according to ICE. 

This includes serving as a check‑in location for individuals under ICE supervision who aren’t in custody and a processing center for individuals with pending immigration cases or removal proceedings.

According to a Vera Institute of Justice analysis, the number of people held at the Knapp Street location has been increasing. 

The Vera Institute is a national nonpartisan nonprofit that does research and advocates for policy concerning incarceration and public safety. 

The most people held by ICE at a given time at that Knapp Street location during the Biden administration was six. On June 3, 22 people were held there – also exceeding the high of 17 during President Donald Trump’s first administration, according to data from Vera Institute. 

The office generally does not detain people overnight but can facilitate transfer to detention centers that do. 

The functions carried out at the Knapp Street office mirror those planned for the Northwest Side facility.

City records show the West Lake Park Drive property will be used to process non-detained people as well as detainees for transport to detention centers.

The records also state that the property will serve as the main southeastern Wisconsin office for immigration officers and staff.

The U.S. General Services Administration, the federal government’s real estate arm, initially projected the new site would open in October. However, a spokesperson said there was no update and did not confirm whether that timeline still stands.

Neither ICE nor the Department of Homeland Security, which oversees ICE, responded to NNS’ requests for comment. 

Rise in immigration enforcement

As local immigration enforcement grows, so does enforcement throughout the state and the rest of the country. 

Nationally, the number of immigrants booked into ICE detention facilities increased in less than a year – from 24,696 in August 2024 to 36,713 in June 2025, according to the Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse. 

The Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse is a nonprofit at Syracuse University that conducts nonpartisan research. 

Not only are more people being detained, but they are being detained for longer, said Jennifer Chacón, the Bruce Tyson Mitchell professor of law at Stanford Law School. 

A July 8 internal memo from ICE Acting Director Todd Lyons instructs agents to detain immigrants for the duration of their removal proceedings, effectively eliminating access to bond hearings. 

Eighty-four of 181 detention facilities exceeded their contractual capacity on at least one day from October 2024 to mid-April 2025, according to a July report from the Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse. 

The Dodge County Jail, which ICE uses to detain people apprehended in Milwaukee, is one of the facilities that exceeded its contractual capacity. On its busiest day, it held 139 individuals – four more than its 135-bed limit.   

In addition to Dodge County, Brown and Sauk county jails have also entered into agreements with ICE to house detained immigrants, according to records obtained by the ACLU of Wisconsin. 

ICE’s unprecedented budget

Noelle Smart, a principal research associate at the Vera Institute, notes that it remains unclear whether increased immigration enforcement drives the need for more detention infrastructure or expands to catch up with more infrastructure. 

But, Smart said, with ICE’s unprecedented new budget, the question of which one drives the other becomes less relevant.

Trump’s proposed ICE budget in 2025 was $9.7 billion – a billion more than ICE’s 2024 budget. An additional $29.85 billion was made available through 2029 for enforcement and removal as part of the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act.” 

“We know this administration intends to vastly increase the number of people subject to arrests and detention, and we expect to see increases in both given this budget,” Smart said.

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Jonathan Aguilar is a visual journalist at Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service who is supported through a partnership between CatchLight Local and Report for America.

Federal government extends lease at downtown Milwaukee building used by ICE is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Wearing his Milwaukee police uniform, Gregory Carson Jr. stepped into the witness stand, raised his right hand and swore to tell the truth.

Two years earlier, a man had been shot in an alley. His girlfriend said police pressured her to allow a search of the duplex as she held her infant. That search had turned up five guns, and now her boyfriend faced a federal charge.

On the stand that afternoon, a public defender asked Carson if he recalled making inappropriate statements to the girlfriend. Commenting on seeing her underwear on the floor? Reaching out to her hours later? Texting her?

Carson’s answer under oath to each question was the same.

No.

A few witnesses later, the girlfriend swore to tell the truth and read screenshots of text messages she had received.

Hey, it’s me. Honestly it was seeing your thong on the floor that had me like damn lol.

The woman replied to ask who was contacting her. She read the response in court: Hey it’s Carson from yesterday and I understand.

The officer had been caught in a lie.

At the time, Carson already was on the Milwaukee County district attorney’s list of officers with a history of credibility, integrity or bias concerns, commonly referred to as a “Brady/Giglio” list.

He also was under internal investigation for those same text messages. None of that was known to the defense attorney who questioned him. 

After that court hearing, Carson remained on the Milwaukee Police Department payroll for more than two years. In that period, he came under internal investigation three more times.

His nine-year career illustrates the risk of keeping such officers on the force and interacting with the public after their credibility and integrity have come under question. At least a dozen officers, including Carson, kept their jobs after landing on the Brady list, then ended up on the list again for another incident, an investigation by the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, TMJ4 News and Wisconsin Watch found.

Reached in April, Carson declined an interview request. 

Police Chief Jeffrey Norman said Carson faced several allegations that overlapped in time and that the officer had due process and collective bargaining rights. Internal investigations can take months or even years to complete, the chief added.

“But we still have to remember, just as a court case, you are innocent until proven guilty,” Norman said in an interview in January.

Officers’ rights are important, but so is protecting public trust, said Justin Nix, associate professor of criminology and criminal justice at the University of Nebraska Omaha.

“Officers can arrest us, they can use force on us, and along with that comes a lot of responsibility to uphold certain values and to be honest,” Nix said in June. 

“When officers fail to meet those standards, in my mind, it’s unacceptable.”

Officer lands on Brady list after domestic violence arrest but keeps his job

Carson wanted a long career with the Milwaukee Police Department.

He started as a police aide.

He had relatives who were cops and he wanted to make a difference in his community, “busting down drug houses, getting guns off the streets,” he wrote to a supervisor in 2015.

“I am striving for success, and 25 years plus on the job,” he added.

He became a sworn officer in 2018. Two years later, his own department arrested him on a domestic violence allegation.

A woman had called for help, saying she wanted Carson to leave their shared residence. She had confronted him over infidelity suspicions, and then he held her against the couch and bit her cheek, she said. 

Police separated the two. Officer Roy Caul asked the woman about domestic violence incidents that had occurred at any time, not just that night in 2020.

“Just because he’s a cop doesn’t mean that he’s free to do this to you,” Caul said, according to transcripts from body camera footage. 

The woman said she just wanted Carson out of the house.

The officer asked if anything occurred that night or within the last 28 days to cause her pain or make her fear for her safety. The woman replied no.

Officers arrested Carson, already in uniform for his next shift, and took him to the training academy for further questioning. He denied hurting the woman.

The department referred the case to the district attorney’s office. Assistant District Attorney Nicolas Heitman declined to charge Carson. In a recent email to the Journal Sentinel, Heitman said the office did not feel it could meet the burden of proof with the available evidence.

Three months later, the woman told Internal Affairs she had not feared for her safety. Carson told Internal Affairs nothing physical happened.

“I feel that I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, according to department records.

Norman, the chief, disagreed and gave Carson a three-day suspension. 

The arrest resulted in the district attorney’s office placing Carson on its list of officers with credibility or integrity issues, often called a “Brady/Giglio” list, named after two landmark U.S. Supreme Court rulings. 

These lists are maintained to help prosecutors fulfill their legal obligations to share information favorable to the defense. Often, criminal cases come down to the word of an officer against a defendant. Judges and juries must weigh the credibility of both.

With Carson’s name added to the list, prosecutors would need to disclose his criminal referral and integrity violation to defense attorneys if he appeared on their witness list. 

Then it would be up to a defense attorney, and later a judge, to determine if it was relevant to bring up in court.

Carson kept his job, his badge and his ability to testify.

Wisconsin does not have statewide standards for Brady lists, leaving it to each county to track material

Until recently, the county’s full Brady list was kept secret.

After months of pressure from media organizations, the district attorney’s office released the entire list last September. It was inaccurate, inconsistent and incomplete, an investigation by the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, TMJ4 News and Wisconsin Watch found.

As a result of reporters’ questions, District Attorney Kent Lovern removed officers and added others. His office released a corrected and updated list of nearly 200 officers in February, which was published by the Journal Sentinel and media partners.

Who gets on a list – and whether counties even have a list – varies widely in Wisconsin, where there are no statewide standards. Officers can testify in multiple counties or in federal court, depending on the case and where an investigation leads. 

Federal prosecutors, however, have standardized U.S. Department of Justice guidelines. Prosecutors are supposed to ask law enforcement witnesses directly about potential Brady material and check with officers’ home agencies. 

“This process is designed to identify information that is even broader in scope than what is legally required and what might trigger being on a list in another jurisdiction,” said Kenneth Gales, a spokesman with the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Milwaukee, in an email.

Gales maintained the office followed all proper procedures prior to Carson’s testimony in the federal hearing.

Even if a formal list is not shared by prosecutors, state and federal public defenders in eastern Wisconsin often exchange information between their offices about the credibility of law enforcement witnesses.

Criminal defense attorneys in Wisconsin say inconsistencies in disclosing Brady material can lead to injustice and wrongful convictions.

Such information is crucial for an effective defense, said Bridget Krause, trial division director for the State Public Defender’s Office.

“Our clients have liberty at stake,” she said.

In shooting case, a witness says officer made inappropriate comments in person and through texts

In late 2021, the Milwaukee Police Department’s Internal Affairs Division received a letter from a prisoner at Kettle Moraine Correctional Institution.

In it, a man accused officers of illegally searching his house during a shooting investigation. 

It was the call involving Carson. 

Internal Affairs opened an investigation and notified Carson, saying he was accused of taking part in an illegal search and failing to activate his body camera. 

A third allegation read that “while on scene, you made inappropriate comments to a female citizen as well as sending her an inappropriate text message,” according to paperwork served on Carson on March 1, 2022.

Seven days later at the court hearing, Carson denied knowing anything about the texts.

He also defended his decision to turn off his body camera, saying he had switched off the device to speak with other officers, who did the same. No one recorded the conversation detectives had with the woman about searching the home.

“My role in the investigation was over once the detectives were on scene inside the residence,” Carson said, according to a court transcript.

When the man’s girlfriend testified, she said she felt pressured to allow the search after an officer mentioned child welfare. She feared her baby would be taken away. She also said that Carson had flirted with her in the house.

When the prosecutor asked her to elaborate, she quoted Carson as saying: “Oh, you might as well kiss your man goodbye, because you ain’t never going to see him again.”

She also remembered this comment: “I’m going to come back and see you later, okay? You going to let me in? It’s just going to be me and you.”

As the hearing closed, Joshua Uller, a federal public defender, sharpened his argument that officers had acted improperly and their search was not lawful.

Carson and others violated department policy when they didn’t record their interaction with the woman as she signed the consent form. They treated a shooting victim as a suspect without evidence to do so, and Carson had acted completely inappropriately, he said.

“Turning a woman with a newborn child whose boyfriend was just taken away in an ambulance into a romantic objective is really beyond the pale,” Uller said, according to a transcript.

Later that month, Magistrate Judge Stephen C. Dries issued his report and recommendation. Though he chided officers for failing to record the woman signing the form, he concluded they had properly gotten her consent and the search was legal.

Carson’s testimony on the text messages, he said, was not credible.

Officer, already on the Brady list, tries to dissuade a woman from filing a complaint against another officer

Two days after the hearing, an internal investigator questioned Carson about the text messages.

He admitted to sending them, contradicting his testimony. 

He said he had a “weakness” and had contacted the woman in “romantic pursuit,” department records say.

“In no way shape or form did I ever intend to be inappropriate or disrespect her in that manner,” he said, according to the records. “It was honestly me trying to shoot my shot and that was it.”

He denied making inappropriate comments to her in person and denied using his position as a police officer as an advantage. He said he regretted it and had learned a lesson.

He never mentioned his false testimony. At this point, federal prosecutors had not notified the police department of any concerns.

About three months after that interview, Carson had another troubling interaction with a woman he met on duty when she and her ex-boyfriend walked into District 7 on the city’s north side.

The former couple had a heated property dispute. The woman also said the man had intentionally hit her head while closing a car door. The man said it was an accident.

Carson was one of four officers dealing with the situation.

The woman grew frustrated with an officer who implied she was lying about the car door injury and refused to write a report about the incident. Police cited the man for battery.

Hours later, the woman received a call from a blocked number. 

It was Carson.

He explained who he was and said he was off-duty. He pleaded with her not to file a complaint against his co-worker who had implied she was lying, according to police records. All of the officers involved were “good guys” who could only do so much, she remembered him saying.

She also recalled Carson saying that he hoped she would leave her ex-boyfriend alone because he did not want the ex “popping up at her house” while Carson was there, which she believed to be a flirtatious comment.

The next day, she filed two complaints at District 7: one against the officer who implied she lied and one against Carson.

In a recent interview with the Journal Sentinel, the woman called the actions of the officers that day “extremely disheartening.”

“When you’re going through one of the toughest times of your life, the last thing you should have to deal with is them approaching you in a sexual manner or accusing you of lying when you’re literally crying out for help,” said the woman, who asked not to be named publicly for privacy and safety reasons.

Internal Affairs classified her complaint against Carson as potential misconduct in office and assigned a detective to investigate.

A federal prosecutor tells the Milwaukee Police Department an officer gave false testimony in court

That summer, the federal case involving the shooting victim and Carson’s texts continued.

The defense attorney asked another judge to weigh in on the legality of the search. 

As prosecutors prepared for another hearing in July 2022, Assistant U.S. Attorney Megan Paulson reached out to Carson about his prior testimony. 

She then wrote a memo summarizing their conversation, in which she said Carson admitted to sending the texts and not being truthful in his testimony, adding: “I’m human and I’m attracted to women.”

On July 6, 2022, Assistant U.S. Attorney Tim Funnell emailed Internal Affairs with concerns about Carson’s credibility. He followed up the next day with a transcript from the March hearing, the earlier judge’s report and the defense motion for a second evidentiary hearing. 

Asked about the case and the length of time it took the U.S. Attorney’s Office to contact Milwaukee police, a spokesman for the office said prosecutors acted appropriately.

“The United States also timely satisfied all legal disclosure obligations to the Court and to the defense in the matter you have referenced,” Gales said in an email. 

Carson was on the county’s Brady list of officers with credibility issues — he had been since 2021 — but Uller, the federal public defender, said he had never seen the county’s Brady list until the Journal Sentinel and other media partners published it in February.

“While I cannot comment on this particular case, I am not aware of any instance in which, prior to the publication of this list, a lawyer in our office was notified of an officer’s inclusion in this list,” he said.

The Journal Sentinel tried to contact the woman who received the texts but was not successful. Her then-boyfriend charged in the case died in a shooting two years ago.

After hearing from the federal prosecutor in July 2022, Internal Affairs opened an investigation into Carson’s false testimony.

Carson was now the subject of three pending internal investigations, had previously received a three-day suspension and was on the county’s Brady list.  

Still, he remained on patrol.

“At the time, it’s an allegation,” Norman, the police chief, said in an interview.

“We have, again, due process,” he added. “And so we need to make sure that there is, you know, the fairness of ensuring that there is credibility to everything, even from a prosecutor.”

A domestic violence victim calls for help, and an officer under internal investigation responds

Bobbie Lou Schoeffling called 911 for help on July 11, 2022.

Over the previous months, Schoeffling or her sister had repeatedly called police to report violence from Schoeffling’s ex-boyfriend, Nicholas Howell. Howell had not been arrested despite the multiple reports, having an open warrant for fleeing and being under the supervision of correctional agents for a past robbery conviction.

That night, Schoeffling called police twice to report threats from Howell. On the second call, she said he had threatened to burn down her house on Hampton Avenue. She had left the area, fearing for her safety, she added.

Carson and his partner were dispatched to the second call. They did not drive to her house. Instead, Carson spoke to her over the phone and failed to activate his body camera to record their conversation.

Carson and his partner — and the two officers who responded earlier that night — did not file any reports or make any arrests.

Schoeffling was found shot to death two weeks later, on July 26. 

On Sept. 4, 2022, police leaders finally pulled Carson from patrol, stripped him of his police powers and assigned him to the stolen vehicle desk in the forensics division. 

He did not routinely interact with the public in the role, and the job limited him from having to testify, a department spokesperson said in an email to the Journal Sentinel.

As internal investigations conclude, officer faces a suspension, then termination

As Carson sat at his desk job, his discipline piled up.

In February 2023, Norman suspended him for six days for the inappropriate texts and for failing to activate his body camera at the shooting scene.

Two months later, in April, the Journal Sentinel published an investigation into Schoeffling’s death. The article prompted Norman to order a review of every contact she had with the department, including the one involving Carson. The chief later suspended Carson for eight days for how he handled the call.

That same month, Internal Affairs interviewed Carson about the complaint filed by the woman at District 7. That investigation had slowed, in part, because it was difficult to reach the woman for follow-up interviews, records show.

The woman told the Journal Sentinel that she recalled speaking to an investigator once after filing her complaint and said she received several letters from the department.

Carson told the investigator, Sgt. Adam Riley, that when he called the woman, he did not say anything suggestive, only that she was worth more than her ex-boyfriend, according to department records. He acknowledged urging her not to make a complaint.

Riley pointed out the officer appeared to have a “pattern.”

Riley asked about Carson’s court testimony in the earlier case, pointing out he knew about the allegation related to the texts before his testimony. Carson said he thought he was truthful on the stand because he did not remember the text at the time.

Carson also said the federal prosecutor who wrote the memo had “misinterpreted” their conversation. Riley asked if Carson would have done anything differently. 

No, he said.

Federal and state prosecutors declined to file criminal charges of perjury or misconduct against Carson.

But the district attorney’s office did add him to the Brady list for a second time — and the false testimony cost him his job.

Norman fired him for lying under oath and for discouraging the woman at District 7 from making a complaint. 

Carson’s discharge date was Aug. 28, 2024, three years after he was first placed on the Brady list in the aftermath of his domestic violence arrest.

The woman who filed the complaint against Carson and the other officer at District 7 knew Carson had been fired. Still, she has concerns about how the department investigates misconduct allegations.

“I think it’s not handled appropriately or quickly enough,” she said.

Tia Schoeffling, Bobbie Lou Schoeffling’s sister, called it “ridiculous” that an officer arrested in such a case could then respond to domestic violence victims.

She thought of Carson on desk duty for two years, collecting nearly $80,000 in annual wages while he was the subject of several ongoing internal investigations.

She questioned if it would have taken that long to investigate a regular citizen for similar allegations. 

“It’s mind-blowing that he was even allowed to respond to her call,” she said.

This story is part of Duty to Disclose, an investigation by the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, TMJ4 News and Wisconsin Watch. The Fund for Investigative Journalism provided financial support for this project.

Already flagged for integrity concerns, a Milwaukee police officer lied under oath – and kept patrolling is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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A Wisconsin court commissioner has resigned from his job after he asked to see an immigration arrest warrant, the latest conflict between judges and President Donald Trump’s administration over the Republican’s sweeping immigration crackdown.

Peter Navis, who worked as a Walworth County court commissioner for four years, resigned from his position last month, county clerk Michelle Jacobs said Thursday. She declined to comment further because it is a personnel matter.

The incident that cost Navis his job happened on July 15. It was first reported on Thursday by the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

The blowup in Navis’ courtroom comes after Milwaukee County Circuit Judge Hannah Dugan was charged in May with obstructing federal officers and attempting to hide a person to avoid arrest. Authorities said Dugan tried to help a man who is in the country illegally evade U.S. immigration agents who wanted to arrest him in her courthouse.

Dugan is seeking to have the charges against her dropped, arguing that she was acting in her official capacity as a judge and therefore is immune to prosecution. A ruling on that motion by U.S. District Judge Lynn Adelman is pending.

Navis was presiding in his courtroom that day in the case of Enrrique Onan Zamora Castro, of Milwaukee, who faced a misdemeanor charge of operating a vehicle without a valid driver’s license for the second time in three years.

Navis said in an interview Thursday that about 15 minutes before Castro’s case was to be called, a deputy told him that Castro was going to be arrested on behalf of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, on an immigration warrant.

A court transcript shows that Navis objected to sheriff’s deputies attempting to detain Castro without a valid federal warrant.

“In my courtroom, a person cannot be detained without lawful authority,” Navis said in the transcript.

The prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney Andrew Herrmann, said Navis had no right to see the warrant, according to the transcript. Herrmann did not respond to a voicemail seeking comment.

Navis said he spoke with Walworth County Judge Kristine Drettwan for guidance, and she told him he had the authority to run his courtroom as he saw fit. Drettwan did not return an email seeking comment.

Sometime after Castro was detained, ICE officers appeared with deputies to make a second arrest of someone in the courtroom. Navis said he didn’t know who that person was.

According to the transcript, Navis said, “I’ve been instructed by the judges of this county to require warrants before individuals are detained in my courtroom.”

Navis said he met with three of the court’s judges six days after the incident and they told him that because he misstated their position he could either resign or be fired. None of the judges in that meeting returned emails seeking comment Thursday.

Navis said on Thursday that he misspoke in the courtroom.

“I misstated it, I did,” Navis said. “It’s not something I had intended to misstate. It’s not like I was trying to mislead anyone. What I was trying to express was I had been given the authority to act in my courtroom. That’s what I meant to say, but it didn’t come out that way.”

Navis said he is currently looking for work.

Walworth County Sheriff Dave Gerber did not respond to an email seeking comment. ICE officials had no immediate comment.

Walworth County, home to about 100,000 people, is in south-central Wisconsin along the Illinois border. Trump won the county with about 60% of the vote in November.

Wisconsin Watch is a nonprofit and nonpartisan newsroom. Subscribe to our newsletters to get our investigative stories and Friday news roundup. This story is published in partnership with The Associated Press.

Wisconsin court commissioner in Walworth County resigns after dispute over immigration warrant is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Click here to read highlights from the story

• A special prosecutor was appointed in March 2024 to look into Judge Mark McGinnis’ decision to jail a concrete contractor in December 2021 over a money dispute during a probation hearing for an unrelated crime. The money dispute was with a courthouse employee.

• The special prosecutor, La Crosse County District Attorney Tim Gruenke, said he plans to make a decision on the case around Labor Day.

• Criminal charges against a judge for a decision made from the bench are possible, but unlikely and without recent precedent. Judicial misconduct cases have been reviewed by the Wisconsin Judicial Commission since 1978, and the Wisconsin Supreme Court has the final say on any penalty.

A special prosecutor expects to decide in early September whether to take the extraordinary step of filing criminal charges against an Appleton-area judge over his actions from the bench.

The special prosecutor, La Crosse County District Attorney Tim Gruenke, declined further comment to Wisconsin Watch on his investigation of Outagamie County Circuit Court Judge Mark McGinnis.

Wisconsin Watch reported in January 2024 that McGinnis’ actions were the focus of a Wisconsin Department of Justice criminal investigation that had been ongoing for more than a year. The March 2024 appointment of the special prosecutor has not previously been reported.

McGinnis had jailed cement contractor Tyler Barth in December 2021 over a private dispute that was not a matter before the court. 

When Barth appeared before McGinnis for a probation review hearing, on a felony conviction for fleeing an officer, McGinnis accused him of stealing several thousand dollars from a cement contracting customer.

The customer worked in the same courthouse for another Outagamie County judge. 

Even though Barth had not been arrested or charged with theft, McGinnis ordered him jailed for 90 days, saying he would release Barth as soon as he repaid the customer.

“I think it’s definitely crazy, just lock a guy up with no charge, no pending charge, no nothing and then get away with it,” Barth told Wisconsin Watch in a recent interview.

The 32-year-old Fremont resident said he spent three days in jail before Fond du Lac attorney Kirk Evenson intervened and persuaded McGinnis to release him.

“I just don’t think the guy should be able to do this to anyone else,” Barth said.

Barth later settled the money dispute with his customer. An attorney advised him it would be difficult to win civil damages against McGinnis because of judicial immunity, but Barth is waiting to see what happens with the criminal case before deciding whether to pursue a federal civil rights lawsuit.

McGinnis did not reply to requests seeking comment.

McGinnis was first elected in 2005, at age 34, and has been re-elected each time, without opposition. Most recently he was re-elected in April 2023 for a term that runs through July 2029.

Wisconsin judgeships are nonpartisan.

Gruenke, a Democrat, is a 30-year prosecutor, including the past 18 years as the La Crosse County district attorney. 

Gruenke was appointed as special prosecutor by the Outagamie County Circuit Court in March 2024 after Outagamie County District Attorney Melinda Tempelis determined it would be a conflict of interest for her office to handle the case.

Legal experts agree judges have unparalleled latitude for taking away someone’s liberty, especially if the person is on probation. But invoking criminal penalties to compel action in an unrelated dispute arguably goes beyond a judge’s lawful authority.

Judicial historian Joseph Ranney, an adjunct professor at Marquette University Law School, said he is not aware of any instance in which a sitting Wisconsin judge was charged with a crime for actions taken as a judge.

Jeremiah Van Hecke, executive director of the Wisconsin Judicial Commission, also said he was not aware of such a case.

Since 1978, the Judicial Commission has been the body responsible for investigating complaints against judges, which are then referred to the state Supreme Court. The Supreme Court has published 31 decisions that carried some form of punishment, often a reprimand, including several for actions taken from the bench.

In 1980, Milwaukee County Judge Christ Seraphim was suspended for three years without pay for a number of violations, including “retaliatory use of bail.” In 1985, retaliatory use of bail was one of the charges brought against Rusk County Judge Donald Sterlinske, who was ordered removed from office even though he had resigned.

Former state Supreme Court Justice Michael Gableman has agreed to a three-year suspension of his law license, but is awaiting formal action in that case. It centers on his work as a special counsel investigating the 2020 presidential election, not his work as a judge.

Marquette University law professor Chad Oldfather said, though it’s unlikely, McGinnis could be charged with misconduct in public office. That state law prohibits, among other things, officials from knowingly exceeding their lawful authority. 

But a referral to the Judicial Commission seems much more likely than a criminal charge, Oldfather said.

The commission could also initiate an investigation on its own.

A special prosecutor, Sauk County District Attorney Patricia Barrett, decided not to file criminal charges following a 2011 incident in which state Supreme Court Justice Ann Walsh Bradley accused Justice David Prosser of choking her during an argument in a justice’s office.  

The Judicial Commission recommended that the Supreme Court discipline Prosser for misconduct, but the court took no action for lack of a quorum of four of the seven justices. Three justices recused themselves because they were witnesses to the incident. 

Any matters before the Judicial Commission are generally confidential. They become public only if the commission files a complaint against a judge or if the judge being investigated waives confidentiality.

There have been criminal charges filed in connection with a judge’s role as a judge, though they were not in response to official actions taken by a judge. 

In April, federal prosecutors charged Milwaukee County Circuit Court Judge Hannah Dugan with two crimes for allegedly obstructing Immigration and Customs Enforcement from arresting a criminal defendant in her courtroom. Her case is pending.

In 2019, a Winnebago County jury found Leonard Kachinsky, a municipal court judge, guilty of misdemeanor violation of a harassment restraining order involving his court manager.

Special prosecutor weighing whether to criminally charge Outagamie County judge is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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The Milwaukee Police Department is still undecided about whether to expand its use of facial recognition technology, an MPD spokesperson said. 

“We are in continued conversations with the public related to FRT (facial recognition technology) and have not made any decisions,” the spokesperson said.

MPD has been in discussions with the company Biometrica, which partners with police agencies and others to provide the technology. 

Meanwhile, opposition to the technology continues to grow. 

In July, the Milwaukee Equal Rights Commission unanimously passed a resolution opposing MPD’s use of facial recognition. The Equal Rights Commission is a city body working to promote equality in the city’s institutions and the broader community. 

Tony Snell, chair of the commission, sent a letter to Milwaukee Police Chief Jeffrey Norman urging him to reject the technology. Copies were also sent to the Milwaukee Common Council, Milwaukee Mayor Cavalier Johnson and the Milwaukee Fire and Police Commission.

The resolution cited the risk of error, which it said disproportionately affects historically marginalized groups, as a major reason for opposition.

The Equal Rights Commission’s overall goal is to help the city limit the risk of discrimination against people, Snell said. 

The resolution also noted a lack of publicly available data on positive outcomes in other cities that have adopted the technology. 

In May, 11 of the 15 members of the Milwaukee Common Council sent a letter to Norman opposing facial recognition, citing the risk of misidentification – particularly for people of color and women – and the potential for harm to the community’s trust in law enforcement. 

Additional concerns raised in public testimony to the commission – by community members and civil groups – included the potential sharing of immigration-related data with federal agencies and the targeting of individuals and groups exercising their First Amendment rights. 

What MPD says

MPD has consistently stated that a carefully developed policy could help reduce risks associated with facial recognition.

“Should MPD move forward with acquiring FRT, a policy will be drafted based upon best practices and public input,” a department spokesperson said. 

Facial recognition technology is a potent investigation tool to quickly and effectively generate leads, said Heather Hough, MPD’s chief of staff, during the Equal Rights Commission public meeting about the technology. 

But Hough emphasized facial recognition’s role as one tool among many used by MPD.

“The real work is in the human analysis and additional investigation by our detectives, by our officers,” Hough said.  

She also presented case studies, including a March 2024 homicide, in which facial recognition from a neighboring jurisdiction helped identify suspects.

More recently, MPD said it used facial recognition to identify a suspect in a July 20 homicide on Milwaukee’s North Side after accessing footage from a residential camera near North 55th Street and West Custer Avenue.

What Biometrica says

Biometrica, the company MPD is considering partnering with, stressed how facial recognition’s potential errors can be reduced. 

Kadambari Wade, Biometrica’s chief privacy officer, said the company is constantly evaluating and re-evaluating how it does its work, looking for ways to ensure it is more accurate. 

She said she and her husband, Biometrica CEO Wyly Wade, are aware of concerns about racial bias and work to address them.

“Wyly is a white man from Texas. I’m a brown-skinned immigrant,” she said.

Kadambari Wade said they want to make sure their services would work as well on her as they do on him. 

Wade also denied any current or future plans to cooperate with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

“We do not work with ICE. We do not work in immigration,” she said. 

What’s next?

Since the passage of Wisconsin Act 12, the only official way to amend or reject MPD policy is by a vote of at least two-thirds of the Common Council, or 10 members. 

However, council members cannot make any decision about it until MPD actually drafts its policy, often referred to as a “standard operating procedure.” 

Ald. Peter Burgelis – one of four council members who did not sign onto the Common Council letter to Norman – said he is waiting to make a decision until he sees potential policy from MPD or an official piece of legislation considered by the city’s Public Safety and Health Committee. 

Snell’s main concern is for MPD’s decision to be fair and just.

“Regardless … you want to be part of the process in order to eliminate, or to the extent possible, reduce risk of discrimination to people,” Snell said.

Milwaukee police still weighing expanding use of facial recognition technology is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Click here to read highlights from the story

• Maintaining relationships between children and incarcerated parents helps mitigate the negative impacts of the separation. Family visits have been shown to reduce recidivism. 

• At Camp Reunite, children spend a week at a traditional summer camp, with access to outdoors activities and trauma-informed programming. Two days out of the week, campers spend an entire day with their incarcerated parents.

• The program is accessible only to children of those incarcerated at Taycheedah and Kettle Moraine prisons, but the camp is discussing an expansion to Racine Correctional Institution.  

• Stigma surrounding incarceration and transportation barriers have limited growth of the camp.

The thunk of a plastic bat followed each pitch and question Tasha H. lobbed toward her 14-year-old son. She cheered after each hit as she tracked down the whiffle ball and prepared her next throw. 

“Maybe baseball next year?” 

No, he responded before hitting the ball over his mom’s head. He plans to try out for varsity football instead.

“You’re getting a lot better than you give yourself credit for,” Tasha told him.

Standing in a patch of green grass in late June, working to extract more than one-word answers from her son, Tasha looked like a typical mom of a soon-to-be high schooler. But as the ball landed on the wrong side of a chain rope fence, it was clear they were not standing in a backyard or baseball field. 

“I can’t go get that,” she said. 

The fence stood only about 2 feet high. But Tasha could not cross it or the much taller, barbed fence bordering Taycheedah Correctional Institution in Fond du Lac — not for at least another year. 

The brief batting practice was part of Camp Reunite, a program for children with incarcerated parents. Before camp, Tasha had not seen her son in the year since she was arrested for crimes she committed related to a drug relapse.

WPR and Wisconsin Watch are withholding the last names of parents or kids included in the story at the request of Camp Reunite to protect the campers’ privacy.

One of the first things Tasha noticed about her son was that he’s taller than her now. 

“Then he spoke and it was like a man, and I was appalled,” Tasha said. “I know that sounds crazy, but I just want to be there as much as I can, even though I’m in here.”

They both needed the visit, she said. 

Maintaining relationships between children and incarcerated parents helps mitigate the negative impacts of the separation, experts say. Family visits have been shown to reduce recidivism. 

Camp Reunite allows children to spend a week at a traditional summer camp where they can hike, canoe and participate in trauma-informed programming like art therapy. Two days out of the week, campers get to spend an entire day with their incarcerated parents in a more relaxed setting than typical visits.

Despite the camp’s success for parents and their kids, it remains unique to Wisconsin and has operated in just two prisons this summer: the women’s prison at Taycheedah and Kettle Moraine, a nearby men’s facility.

Public opinion is the camp’s biggest obstacle, said Chloe Blish, the camp’s mental wellness director. Prison and camp staff described hearing and reading concerns over the perception that the program is a safety risk — and that it rewards incarcerated parents. 

Past media coverage of the camp has prompted online backlash against named parents — personal attacks that older campers can read and absorb, Blish said.

She wishes skeptics could experience a day at Camp Reunite, she said. “It’s electric.”

Tasha and her son started their reunion playing the board game Sorry!

“I miss you,” she said before moving her pawn 10 spaces and asking if he signed up to attend the winter camp. 

He nodded before knocking her piece back to the start, softly telling his mom “sorry.”

Between turns and debates about the rules, she asked about school, football, friends, food at camp and where he got his shoes. He reminded her that she bought them for him. She told him he needed to clean them with an old toothbrush, which led to a short lecture about how often he should replace his toothbrush. 

He asked her why she didn’t spend extra money to get Nikes with her prison uniform, a gray T-shirt and teal scrub pants. They joked about her all-white Reebok sneakers.

“I’m glad you came,” she said. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

Not like other camps

When Taycheedah social worker Rachel Fryda-Gehde heard officials were trying to host a camp at the prison, her first reaction was: “Nobody’s ever going to entertain such a crazy idea.”

This summer, she helped run the prison’s eighth season. 

She and other camp leaders plan to present on the program’s success at national conferences this fall, she said. They want to see the camp grow, but there are barriers, including public perception.

The nonprofit Hometown Heroes runs the camp in coordination with the Wisconsin Department of Corrections.

Camp Hometown Heroes started as a summer camp for children whose parents died after serving in the military. The camp paid to fly Blish and her sister from California to Wisconsin during summers when they were teenagers.

She still loves Hometown Heroes, but Camp Reunite has more impact, she said.

“There’s a lot of camps for gold star kids, that’s easy support,” Blish said. Things are different at Camp Reunite.

She and other camp leaders often work in the kitchen, filling in to wash dishes during Camp Reunite. During Hometown Heroes, that’s never necessary, because so many community members volunteer to help, she said. 

Hometown Heroes, an exponentially larger operation, also receives more individual donations because of people who have a passion for helping veterans and military families, wrote Liz Braatz, the camp’s director of development. 

She has heard the stigma around supporting people in prison, she wrote in an email. But discussing the camp as a way to help children affected by trauma “has made all the difference” in reshaping perceptions, she said. 

Outside of camp, the organization provides campers with new clothing, school supplies and hygiene products. 

“It does not matter who your God is or who you vote for, if your passion is helping these kids,” Braatz wrote. 

The camp is in conversation with Racine Correctional Institution and now has plans to expand its program next summer. 

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections would welcome Camp Reunite in additional facilities, spokesperson Beth Hardtke said. 

Barriers stifle attendance 

The camp faces additional obstacles in expanding its service. 

This summer’s camp at Taycheedah was far from capacity. There were enough camp staff for more than 100 kids, Blish said. But just over a dozen families showed up. 

“We started out with a lot more,” Fryda-Gehde said. 

There are two major requirements for moms to join the camp: no sex crime convictions and no major conduct issues in the six months leading up to camp. This year’s attendance shrank after women were placed into segregation cells after breaking prison rules.

Prison social workers spend months with the moms to prepare for camp. Moms create posters to decorate their campers’ bunk beds, while prison staff set up activity stations like a beauty parlor and photo booth in the visiting room.

But the biggest reason for lower attendance: getting some caregivers on board. 

Some kids might not be ready to visit with their incarcerated parents, Blish said. Other times, caretakers are hesitant to allow them in a prison or struggle to get them there. 

Women are more likely than men to be the primary caretakers for their children at the time of arrest. That often leads to major life disruptions for campers visiting the women’s prison who are more likely to live with foster placements or more distant relatives. 

Even caretakers comfortable with the camp might struggle to get there. Many families lack cars, Blish said. The camp tries to arrange rides for as many kids as possible, but it can’t always pick up kids who live farther away. 

‘You’re here to have fun’

Nyzaiah and his three younger siblings live with their grandparents in Milwaukee. Camp was the first time they’ve made the more than hourlong drive to visit their mom since she was incarcerated. 

“I was trying not to cry because I don’t like really showing my emotions to people, but I did drop a tear,” he said. “Me and my mom are really close.”

They talk on the phone around four times a week, but seeing her in person felt different, he said. 

Most of his classmates get picked up by their parents. Only his close friends know why his grandparents pick him up each day.

“At home, I’m big brother. I gotta do everything and make sure it’s good. I don’t like to bring a lot of stress on my grandma,” the 13-year-old said. 

But at camp, his brothers and sister are in separate cabins. 

“The counselors told me, ‘You’re here to have fun. Don’t worry about your siblings. We’ve got them,’” he said. 

Glitter, braids and tearful goodbyes 

Moms aren’t the only ones asking questions at camp. 

“You’ve got a TV?” asked Deloise L.’s 11-year-old son.

“Of course,” she answered. The morning before camp she woke up early from excitement and watched the morning news while she waited. 

Deloise’s children are staying with her sister who brings them for somewhat regular visits throughout the year. But camp is different.

“I love this,” she said. 

During a normal visit, her family is under the supervision of correctional officers, and her movement is more limited. At camp, most of the prison staff present are social workers. Moms walk from activity to activity without asking permission, including to the camp’s crowded “salon.”

Deloise clipped hot pink braids into her teenage daughter’s hair and applied glittery makeup over her eyes. Her son picked out a fake mustache.

As counselors warned that there were 10 minutes left until they would bus back to camp, kids scrambled to get close to their moms. Even the knowledge that they would be back later that week failed to stop the tears.

“When you got to separate from them, that’s when it gets bad,” Deloise said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “It just gets bad when you want to be around your kids.”

This is her family’s second camp. They plan to attend one more summer camp before her release in 2026.

“I’m learning from my mistakes,” she said. “They won’t have to worry about this again.”

‘I did drop a tear’: Camp Reunite helps kids connect with their incarcerated parents is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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States with weak gun laws, including Wisconsin, experience more firearm deaths among children ages 0 to 17, according to a study published in the June issue of JAMA Pediatrics. 

“We cannot accept that harsh reality as normal,” said Nick Matuszewski, associate executive director at WAVE Educational Fund, a statewide grassroots organization dedicated to preventing gun violence. “This study provides dramatic evidence that when lawmakers step up and take action, they can save young lives.”

The study, authored by national public health researchers using data from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control, found that in Wisconsin, which was categorized as one of 28 states with the most permissive gun laws, child firearm deaths increased by 15%. The most affected group nationally was African American children. 

The study examined a period of time before and after a 2010 Supreme Court ruling that expanded local and state control over firearms laws. 

After that ruling, many states enacted new and more permissive firearm laws, according to the report.  The study looked at all types of firearm deaths, including suicides, homicides and unintentional shootings. 

In 2015, Wisconsin ended its 48-hour waiting period to purchase firearms, said Tyler Kelly, policy and engagement senior associate at WAVE. 

Kelly said many neighboring states and others across the country have strengthened their laws on background checks. 

“In Wisconsin, we have no red flag law, weak storage laws and a lack of a waiting period for buying a firearm,” Kelly said. “All have been shown to save lives.” 

Reaction from state leaders

State Sen. LaTonya Johnson, D-Milwaukee, said the findings of the study are no surprise to anyone who lives in Milwaukee. 

“We see the consequences of this inaction in every child that dies and every family that grieves,” Johnson said. “Most of the kids killed by gun violence in Wisconsin come from right here in our city.” 

New Milwaukee Public Schools Superintendent Brenda Cassellius said during a recent interview that 24 students in the district were victims of homicide this school year. Most were shot. 

New legislation, same old story

Johnson is among a group of Democratic elected officials who are pushing their Republican counterparts to move forward the Safe Summer package of legislation that would revamp the state’s gun laws. 

“I’m always hopeful, but if I’m being realistic, over and over again, Republican leadership has refused to debate common-sense gun safety proposals,” Johnson said. “Even a hearing would be a step forward at this point. I don’t believe that’s too much to ask.”

Championing the legislation is Democratic State Rep. Shelia Stubbs of Madison. She experienced a mass shooting at a school in her district in December 2024. 

“That day was a really difficult day for me. As a parent, I cried,” she said. “I don’t know how many more people must die from gun violence in the state of Wisconsin.” 

The Safe Summer package includes four bills. They would reinstitute the 48-hour waiting period to purchase a firearm; create an extreme-risk protection order, also known as a red flag law; ban ghost guns; and institute universal background checks for all firearm purchases. 

“We need better gun laws to keep guns out of the wrong hands,” Stubbs said. 

Gov. Tony Evers included similar measures in his last budget request, but they were removed by Republican lawmakers on the Joint Committee on Finance. 

NNS reached out to several Republican elected officials from Wisconsin for comment, but they did not respond. 

Republican leaders in Wisconsin and Second Amendment advocates have said over the years that gun violence is tied to a lack of accountability for criminals and not gun ownership. 

Stubbs and others disagree. She said the Republicans in Wisconsin refuse to discuss gun control legislation. 

‘We need better gun laws’

“We need better gun laws to keep guns out of the wrong hands,” she said. “It’s important to talk about the gun safety legislation to regulate access to firearms and promote responsible gun ownership.” 

Kelly said polls have found that the majority of Wisconsinites support stronger gun laws, including universal background checks and waiting periods to purchase guns. 

“If you’re using the gun for the right reasons, you shouldn’t have a problem waiting two days for it. “People in crisis shouldn’t be able to get a gun at the snap of their hands.” 

Stubbs said another major issue that the legislation would resolve is closing a loophole that allows private sales of firearms without background checks. 

“Those are transactions that do not get vetted,” she said. 

A universal issue

While proposed gun laws often become a partisan issue in Wisconsin and around the country, Stubbs hopes that changes. 

She said Democrats are looking for a Republican co-sponsor for the bills, calling gun violence a universal issue that affects everyone. 

“At the end of the day, many of my colleagues are parents. They have loved ones. Gun violence has impacted all of us in one way or another,” Stubbs said. 

Her hope is that something gets done before the next tragedy. 

“I hope it doesn’t take something more to happen before we do something,” she said. “We want everyone to have a safe summer. Enough is enough.” 

New study ties weak state gun laws to child deaths in Wisconsin is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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As she sits on her living room sofa surrounded by a large cutout, framed photos and a houseful of other reminders of her son Javon, Andrea Wilson, 41, can’t help but lose hope that her son’s murder will ever be solved. 

“Nobody’s ever going to be held accountable,” she said. “It just feels like no one is going to be held responsible for his murder.” 

It’s been nearly a year since she’s heard from Milwaukee homicide detectives and more than 16 months since Javon, 21, was hanging out with a group of friends when someone opened fire on them. They took him to St. Joseph’s hospital, where he died from a gunshot wound to his stomach. 

Losing her firstborn is bad enough, she said, but not having justice makes it harder.  Wilson is not alone in her struggles. In Milwaukee, hundreds of families share the unenviable bond of having a loved one murdered, with no one held responsible for it. 

Unsolved murders in Milwaukee

From 2020 to 2024, 901 homicides occurred in the city of Milwaukee. Over 350 of those murders remain unsolved, based on homicide clearance data provided by the Milwaukee Police Department. 

The homicide clearance rate refers to the percentage of cases cleared through arrest or because an arrest is impossible because of certain circumstances such as death, divided by the total number of homicides. Clearance rates also factor in murders solved during a calendar year for incidents that occurred in prior years. 

The clearance rate in Milwaukee fluctuated between 50% and 59% from 2020 to 2023. The year Javon was murdered, in 2023, 59% of 172 murders were cleared. 

Last year, when homicides dropped in the city by 30%, the clearance rate rose to 78%. Unsurprisingly, the clearance rate was lowest during the peak of the COVID pandemic when the number of homicides exploded in Milwaukee. 

Javon’s story

Javon was a fast talker and good kid who excelled at wrestling and other sports in school. He was also extremely bright, graduating from West Allis Central High School with a 3.9 GPA. Offered two college scholarships, he chose instead to attend MATC and pursue his dreams of being a rapper and entrepreneur. 

The day he got shot began like any other. He went to play basketball, came home to shower, and he let his mother know that he was heading out again. 

Then there was a knock at the door, and she learned Javon had been shot and was in the hospital. 

As she arrived, she asked about his condition. 

All the hospital staff would tell her, she said, is that they were waiting for detectives to arrive. 

“I should have realized then that he was already dead,” Wilson said. 

Wilson said her son wasn’t the intended victim but got caught up in someone else’s beef. 

After he died, she said, she called detectives for two weeks straight, even providing the names of potential suspects. 

“It didn’t matter. They called it hearsay,” Wilson said. “I feel like I know who murdered my son.”  

MPD stated that it continues to seek suspects in Javon’s homicide. 

‘There’s no stopping them’

Janice Gorden, who founded the organization Victims of Milwaukee Violence Burial Fund 10 years ago, said it’s common for mothers to conduct their own investigations in their loved one’s murder. 

“Sometimes they have way more information than the detectives do,” she said. 

Sadly, she said, many become consumed with trying to solve the murder themselves. 

“They drive themselves crazy trying to find answers to who killed their loved one,” she said. “I try to help but I can’t. I just listen to people like that because there’s no helping them. There’s no stopping them.” 

Since Javon’s death, Wilson said she’s gone through thousands of emotions, one of them being severe depression. Her mother, who helped raise Javon, her first grandson, is equally devastated. Javon also had a special bond with his little brother Shamus, who’s 8 years old. 

Shamus keeps a large cutout of Javon’s high school graduation photo in his bedroom and even grew out his hair to mimic his brother’s dreadlock hairstyle. Wilson said Shamus has struggled with anger issues since his big brother was killed.

“He doesn’t know how to adjust his emotions,” she said. “It’s been a very downward spiral for all of us.” 

‘I never knew it would happen to me’

Like Wilson, Brenda Hines knows the pain of losing a son to gun violence. 

Her middle child, Donovan, 23, was shot and killed while driving a car near North 29th Street and West Hampton Avenue in 2017. His case also remains unsolved. 

Hines said Donovan was never afraid to travel somewhere new without a plan other than to make it. She said she isn’t sure whether her son was killed in an ongoing dispute over a car or whether it stemmed from a woman. 

“I know there were people at the funeral home and at his vigil who knew,” she said. 

Hines has worked as a Salvation Army chaplain since 2014, heading to crime scenes to help other families deal with tragic incidents such as murders. 

“I never knew it would happen to me,” she said. 

Since Donovan’s death, she’s turned her pain into action, opening the Donovan Hines Foundation of Exuberance to honor her son and to help other families by providing mental health, grief counseling and other support. 

She also hosts an annual vigil to honor homicide victims in Milwaukee, part of a national series of events. Many of the families she’s met along the way are also waiting for justice for their loved one’s murders. 

“It really tears the family apart,” she said. “It’s like an open wound that is still bleeding. The tears flow every day.” 

Hines says she can’t tell families she knows exactly how they feel. 

“Every situation is different. But, I can tell them I understand,” she said. 

Solving murders

James Hutchinson, captain of the Milwaukee Police Department’s Homicide Division, said his team of 33 detectives remains committed to solving a case even as the days grow into years. 

“If someone comes in and says we have info on something that happened five years ago, we’ll take that info and follow up,” he said. “From the first two weeks, to a month, or months or years down the line, we’re equally as committed to solving a murder as we were today.” 

Many families, such as those of Hines’ and Wilson’s, question whether every stone gets turned in an investigation. 

“I don’t know if they did their due diligence,” Wilson said. “I don’t know if they care.” 

Hines, who has worked closely with officers during her time as a chaplain, said she respects the challenges police officers face.   

“They don’t have enough evidence,” she said.

Still, she can’t help but feel that more could have and should be done. 

“I’ve met personally with detectives because they won’t call back,” she said. “It’s a bad process.” 

Though it may not be much solace to the hundreds of families in Milwaukee still hoping for justice, Hutchinson said he and the detectives in his unit take each case personally. They know that the victim’s family and friends are devastated by their loved one’s murder. 

“It’s heartbreaking,” he said. “Making a death notification is one of the hardest parts of this job.” 

Hutchinson said resources in his department were spread thin when murders exploded in the city during the pandemic, which increased the challenge of building a case. 

The biggest challenge, though, he said, is that witness cooperation isn’t what it used to be. 

“It’s changed for the worse,” Hutchinson said. “There wasn’t a no snitching campaign back then.”

Wilson admits that witnesses to her son’s murder were reluctant to talk to police. She tracked down suspects on her own and offered those names to officers. That wasn’t enough to warrant charges, police told her. She needed her son’s friends to step up. 

“At this point y’all should tell what happened,” she told them. “Somebody needs to be held responsible.” 

How Milwaukee compares nationally

Thomas Hargrove, founder of the Murder Accountability Project, the largest database of unsolved murders in America, said Milwaukee homicide clearance rates are similar to what he saw nationally, especially during the pandemic. 

Many cities have struggled to solve murders since then. Part of the challenge is resources. 

“When you have enough resources, good things happen. When you don’t, bad things happen,” Hargrove said. “When you have over 200 murders, your system is off.” 

He also said it’s also much harder to get a conviction now than it was 20 years ago, which can create friction between the district attorney’s office and local police. 

Although police might make an arrest in a homicide case, that doesn’t mean that charges will be filed. 

Police, Hutchinson said, only need probable cause to make an arrest. The burden of proof at the district attorney’s office, which files homicide charges, is higher. 

“They have to be able to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt,” he said. “Many times we will make an arrest for probable cause, but we can’t get to that level.”

What often happens, Hutchinson said, is that officers will bring a case to the DA’s office or discuss what evidence they have and then have a dialogue about whether more is needed to file charges. 

While that can bring some frustration, admits Hutchinson, it is better than arresting the wrong person. 

“My worst nightmare I would have in the world is to have the wrong person held accountable for a crime,” he said. 

Milwaukee County District Attorney Kent Lovern acknowledges that the work to hold someone accountable for murder can be burdensome on families seeking justice. 

“Obviously there is a significant gap between the evidence needed to make an arrest versus the evidence needed to successfully prosecute a case,” Lovern said. 

The reason for caution and continued dialogue with officers in hopes of building a strong case is because there’s no room for error. 

“We really have one opportunity with a particular suspect to bring forward charges, and we want to get it right. Not only for the person charged, but the victim’s family and the integrity of the system,” he said. 

Regardless, said Hargrove, the more murders that remain unsolved, the worse it is for everyone. 

“The more murders you clear, the more murderers you get off the street, the more the murder rate will go down,” he said. 

Trying to move on

As Hines reflects on the ripple effect her son’s murder has had on her family, she does the only thing she can to maintain hope. 

“I have to have the peace of God,” she said. “He has taken care of the situation. I still get angry but I have to let God take control.” 

Meanwhile, Wilson, who still talks to Javon’s friends regularly, visits his grave monthly, and she threw him a huge birthday bash in May.

She wonders whether it’s time to put away some of his photos. Among them are large poster boards filled with pictures that were on display during Javon’s funeral. 

“I have to admit it is kind of depressing,” she said. “But it makes me feel like he’s still here with me.” 

---

For more information

Anyone with any information about murders is asked to contact Milwaukee police at (414) 935-7360. If you wish to remain anonymous, contact Crime Stoppers at (414) 224-TIPS (8477). 

Hargrove urges families of those whose murders have not been solved to request a formal review under the Homicide Victims’ Families’ Right Act. 

It allows for an individual to request federal agencies conduct a review of a homicide case investigation to determine whether it warrants a reinvestigation. 

‘Nobody’s ever going to be held accountable’: Families of unsolved murder victims in Milwaukee fight to maintain hope  is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Click here to read highlights from the story

• Boosting corrections officers’ pay initially helped address chronic staffing shortages in Wisconsin prisons, but vacancies have been rising again in recent months. 

• Corrections officers say the trend is predictable as new officers, attracted by competitive starting wages, discover the demands of the work. Improving training, safety and workplace culture would help, they say. 

• Some Democratic lawmakers, prisoner rights advocates and even correctional officers argue that reducing the prison population would improve conditions for inmates and staff.

Responding to staffing shortages that imperiled guards and staff, Wisconsin lawmakers in 2023 significantly increased pay for corrections officers — hoping to retain and attract more workers to the grueling job. 

It helped, at least initially. But following significant progress, staffing vacancies are again growing in many Wisconsin prisons. The data support a common complaint from correctional officers and their supporters: The Department of Corrections and the Legislature must do more to retain officers in the long run. Improving training, safety and workplace culture would help, they say. 

Meanwhile, some Democratic lawmakers, prisoner rights advocates and correctional officers argue that reducing the prison population would improve conditions for inmates and staff by reducing overcrowding and easing tensions. 

The two-year budget Gov. Tony Evers signed last week included a small boost in funding for programs geared at limiting recidivism and additional funding to plan the closure of one of Wisconsin’s oldest prisons. But Republicans removed broader Evers proposals that focused on rehabilitating prisoners, and a plan to close Green Bay’s 127-year-old prison includes few details.

“Reducing the number of people we incarcerate in Wisconsin is critical, both because of the harm that mass incarceration does to individuals and communities, and because of the resulting stress from overburdening prison staff,” Rep. Ryan Clancy, D-Milwaukee, told Wisconsin Watch. “Packing more people into our prisons leads to worse services and worse outcomes when incarcerated folks are released back into the community.” 

Wisconsin Watch and The New York Times last year detailed how Wisconsin officials for nearly a decade failed to take significant steps to slow a hemorrhaging of corrections officers that slowed basic operations to a crawl. During that period prisoners escaped, staff overtime pay soared and lockdowns kept prisoners from exercise, fresh air and educational programming, leading some to routinely threaten suicide.  

At Waupun Correctional Institution, staffing vacancies peaked at 56% in February 2024, leaving more positions open than filled.

As aging staff members retired, the state struggled to replace them, particularly after Act 10, a sweeping 2011 state law that gutted most public workers’ ability to collectively bargain for more attractive conditions. Vacancy rates steadily climbed to 43% in the state’s maximum-security prisons and 35% across all adult institutions before pay raises took effect in October 2023.

Following two years of partisan infighting, the Republican-led Legislature approved a compensation package that increased starting pay for corrections officers from $20.29 to $33 an hour, with a $5 add-on for staff at maximum-security prisons and facilities with vacancy rates above 40% for six months straight. 

Within a year, vacancy rates plunged as low as 15% at maximum-security prisons and 11% across all adult prisons.

Rep. Mark Born, a Beaver Dam Republican who co-chairs the Legislature’s budget-writing Joint Finance Committee, credited legislative action with greatly reducing staffing shortages.  

“As I’ve talked to the prisons in my district, they’re happy to see that the recruit classes are much larger and the vacancies are about half of what they were prior to the action in the last budget,” he told Wisconsin Watch. 

Vacancies rise following initial progress

It’s true that vacancies are nowhere near their previous crisis levels. Those include rates in Waupun and Green Bay, where officials previously locked down prisoners during severe staffing shortages. Green Bay now has just over half the vacancy rate it had during the height of the crisis. Waupun has recovered even more dramatically. After plunging much of last year, its vacancy rate has hovered near 20% in recent months.

But vacancies are increasing across much of the prison system, corrections data show. As of July 1, rates reached 26% at maximum-security prisons and more than 17% overall. The department has lost more than 260 full-time equivalent officer and sergeant positions over the past nine months. 

The vacancy rate at Columbia Correctional Institution in Portage, which has the most gaping staffing shortage, reached 41% on July 1, up from a low of 11% a year ago. 

Push to close Green Bay prison

The new state budget appropriated $15 million “to develop preliminary plans and specifications” to realign the Department of Corrections and eventually close the Green Bay prison, whose vacancy rate has grown from a low of 9% last October to nearly 25%.

Republicans proposed closing the prison by 2029, but Evers used his veto power to remove that date, saying he objected to setting a closure date “while providing virtually no real, meaningful, or concrete plan to do so.” 

How a future prison closure would shape long-term population trends may hinge on what replaces the prison. Evers earlier this year proposed a $500 million overhaul to, among other provisions, close the Green Bay prison; renovate the Waupun prison — adding a “vocational village” to expand workforce training; and convert the scandal-plagued Lincoln Hills and Copper Lake youth prison into an adult facility.

Republicans rejected that more ambitious proposal in crafting the bill that became law. 

Closing the Green Bay prison without replacing its capacity might reduce the prison population — and ease staffing shortages, Clancy argues. With less space to put those convicted of crimes, judges might issue shorter sentences, he said. 

“Every time I’ve spoken with a criminal judge, I’ve asked if they are aware of the number of beds available when they sentence someone. They always are,” Clancy said. “And I ask if that knowledge impacts their sentencing decisions. It always does.”

But for now, corrections employees are supervising a rising number of prisoners. The state’s total prison population is up about 7% since the compensation boost took effect. Wisconsin now houses more than 23,400 prisoners in facilities built for about 17,700, with the state budget estimating that number to rise over the next two years.

The Department of Corrections did not respond to multiple requests for comment on staffing trends.

‘How much of your soul can you afford to lose?’

Multiple corrections officers called rising vacancies predictable as new officers, attracted by competitive starting wages, discovered the demands of the work.

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit,” said a former officer who recently left a job in Waupun. He requested anonymity to avoid jeopardizing future employment in law enforcement. “They put a Band-Aid on the problem. They lured people in, thinking they were going to make more money. But the reality is the job hasn’t changed.” 

Even before the raises, it was not uncommon for officers to make upwards of $100,000 as they banked overtime pay while being forced to cover for open shifts. That pay came at a steep cost to work-life balance, said Rich Asleson, a correctional officer between 1997 and 2022, most at the former Supermax facility in Boscobel.

“It’s not a matter of needing more money. It’s a matter of how much of your soul can you afford to lose?” Asleson said. 

Additionally, officers say they feel added risks — whether reprimands, lawsuits or even criminal charges — as news media increasingly scrutinize their actions. Multiple deaths of Waupun prisoners, for instance, resulted in rare criminal charges against the warden and eight other staff members. Officers say they get little support, with a larger focus on penalties and firings than reforming conditions.  

More predictable hours, improved training practices and restored union protections would make the work more attractive, officers said.

“It’s one thing to do a job where you’re getting paid and you’re miserable,” the former Waupun officer said. “But can you imagine doing a job and feeling like you’re not even backed up by Madison? There’s people that are getting into trouble because the powers that be are scared, too. (Leaders) think if they’re ever called to the carpet, they can point to all the people they terminated.”

The officer said veterans, fearing reprisals, are increasingly choosing posts that separate themselves from prisoners and riskier work. They are less willing to train incoming officers due to turnover — seeing that time as wasted if new officers won’t stay long, he added. 

The Department of Corrections should improve training and retention by pairing veteran officers with rookies on shifts to show them the ropes — designating training specialists, he said. 

Waupun mayor: Prison guards go unappreciated

Waupun Mayor Rohn Bishop blames news media for recruiting and retention challenges, saying coverage disproportionately scrutinizes officers without recognizing their difficult jobs. 

“I’m the mayor of a town with three prisons within its city limits. Any time an inmate dies all the TV trucks show up and reporters put microphones in my face,” Bishop said. “But when an officer gets killed or hurt for just doing their job, almost no media pay attention. And I think there’s a burnout because of that.”  

Compared to other front-line workers, correctional officers often go unseen and unthanked, Bishop said. 

“You see firefighters. You see nurses. You see cops. You see these other front-line workers. You don’t see correctional officers because they walk on the other side of the wall. And I just think we don’t appreciate them,” Bishop said. 

Improving conditions for prisoners would simultaneously benefit correctional officers by boosting morale across prisons. That includes expanding the Earned Release Program, which offers pathways for early release to eligible prisoners with substance abuse issues who complete treatment and training — with the potential to ease overcrowding.  Evers’ initial budget proposal included provisions that would have expanded eligibility for the Earned Release Program. The final budget included about $2 million to support programs to reduce recidivism and ease reentry.  

“There needs to be a reimagining of what corrections are,” said the former Waupun officer. “It would make it easier for the inmates and the officers.”

Asleson agreed. “You can’t keep people locked away forever,” he said. “I think it’s about hope on both sides of the fence. If nobody has hope, it shows.” 

Wisconsin Watch reporter Sreejita Patra contributed reporting.

‘Band-Aid on the problem’: Past raises haven’t fully solved Wisconsin prison staffing problems is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 11 minutes

This story was originally published by ProPublica. Co-published with APM Reports.

Photography by Sarahbeth Maney.

Reporting highlights

• A powerful doctor: Dr. Nancy Harper is a leading child abuse pediatrician based in Minnesota. She testifies in criminal trials across the Midwest, almost always for the prosecution.

• Casting doubt: Defense attorneys and judges have called Harper’s testimony into question. Two families have filed federal lawsuits against Harper.

• A new review: Prosecutors in Hennepin County said they are conducting a “final, thorough review” of one of Harper’s cases that will include an evaluation of the “medical conclusions.”

In court, Dr. Nancy Harper comes across as professional and authoritative. Often she begins her testimony by explaining her subspeciality: child abuse pediatrics, which focuses on the diagnosis and documentation of signs of child abuse. Her role, she often reminds judges and juries, is solely medical. Whether or not to remove a child from their home, terminate the parent’s rights or, in the most serious cases, charge a caregiver criminally is not up to her.

According to Harper’s testimony, she and her team at the Otto Bremer Trust Center for Safe and Healthy Children in Minneapolis handle about 700 cases of suspected abuse each year. She has testified that 10% to 20% of those wind up confirmed for physical abuse, although it is difficult to determine if these figures are accurate since child protection cases are not public.

When Harper, the center’s director, and her team diagnose abuse, parents and caregivers often struggle to challenge those opinions. By Harper’s own estimation, she’s never been wrong.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a case where I thought it was abusive head trauma and the other specialist didn’t,” Harper testified in 2023, in the case of a day care provider charged with the death of a child in her care.

The defense attorney in the case pressed her: “Have you ever incorrectly diagnosed a child with abusive head trauma?”

“Not currently to my recollection,” she answered.

But in a handful of cases, judges and juries have found day care providers and parents not guilty of crimes after Harper has testified that abuse occurred, though a verdict cannot necessarily be interpreted as a repudiation of Harper or any other expert witness’ determinations or credibility.

Additionally, two federal lawsuits filed recently accuse Harper of ignoring or even concealing alternative explanations for children’s injuries. And, more broadly, medical and legal experts are increasingly questioning a leading child abuse diagnosis, shaken baby syndrome, which is also known as abusive head trauma.

Harper did not respond to requests for comment. She has yet to respond to either lawsuit. In past court testimony, Harper has said that both shaken baby syndrome and abusive head trauma are considered scientifically valid diagnoses by the mainstream medical community. Any controversy, she has said, exists primarily in the legal world rather than the medical one.

Kathleen Pakes, a former prosecutor who now specializes in the forensics of child abuse cases for the Office of the Wisconsin State Public Defender, said Harper’s claim of never making an incorrect diagnosis strains credulity.

“There is no other specialty in medicine that has zero error rate. None,” she said.

Below are four cases in which Harper concluded there was abuse but courts or juries determined otherwise.

---

On July 12, 2017, an 11-month-old boy named Gabriel Cooper collapsed in his high chair at the day care that Sylwia Pawlak-Reynolds operated in South Minneapolis. Paramedics took him to Hennepin County Medical Center, where he was declared brain dead a day later.

Harper reviewed Cooper’s medical records and wrote that “in the absence of a well-documented consistent severe accidental injury, non-accidental trauma or abusive head trauma remains the primary diagnostic consideration.” The child, she wrote, was essentially shaken to death. Before any criminal charges were filed, Pawlak-Reynolds boarded a plane for her native Poland to care for her ailing father, according to her attorney. In February 2018, prosecutors charged Pawlak-Reynolds with two counts of second-degree murder, citing Harper’s diagnosis.

According to her husband, Will Reynolds, they did not realize Pawlak-Reynolds was pregnant when she boarded her flight to Poland. She remained there to give birth to their third child, who is now 6, while Reynolds remained in Minnesota with their two older children, who are now 13 and 16. Reynolds said he and his wife have no confidence that she will get a fair trial, and that she fears she will lose custody of their youngest child if she reenters the country. The family has now been separated for eight years.

Early in the case, Pawlak-Reynolds’ attorneys obtained the same copy of Cooper’s hospital records that had been provided to Minneapolis police, which included the paramedics’ report. The document had been printed out at a significantly reduced scale, shrinking the text to the point that some fields were illegible. Two years later, they obtained a second copy, printed at normal size, which revealed a possible alternate explanation for the injuries: “Mom recalls (patient) did fall 2 days ago, striking the back of his head.”

“That was the sort of proverbial silver-bullet evidence that we’re always looking for in every case and usually never find,” said Brock Hunter, Pawlak-Reynolds’ lawyer.

Polish courts, including an appeals court, have denied extradition requests from the U.S. three times, and the country’s minister of justice has affirmed the rulings. The denials are particularly critical of Harper’s assessment. Polish forensic experts evaluated the case records and took note of a finding by a neurology expert hired by Pawlak-Reynolds, who wrote that Cooper carried a gene tied to a blood clotting disorder.

The ambulance report, the Polish judges wrote, “was concealed from the defense.”

“Then, after the fact was made public, it did not affect the actions of the American authorities in any way,” a Polish district court judge wrote in 2022.

The Hennepin County Medical Examiner’s Office certified Cooper’s manner of death as “undetermined” and the date and place of injury “unknown,” a tacit disagreement with Harper’s opinion that Cooper would have collapsed “shortly after infliction of the trauma.”

The Hennepin County Medical Examiner’s Office declined to comment.

Then in 2023, Hennepin County Attorney Mary Moriarty wrote to Pawlak-Reynolds’ attorneys after meeting with them: “We agree that to resolve the current impasse regarding Ms. Pawlak-Reynolds, the best course for all involved is to dismiss the pending charges without prejudice, and for her to return to the United States.”

But months later, Moriarty changed her mind.

In a statement to ProPublica, a spokesperson for the Hennepin County Attorney’s Office wrote that the office is completing a “final, thorough review” of the case that will include an evaluation of “concerns regarding the medical conclusions and the overall strength of the case.”

Gabriel’s parents, Joseph and Samantha Cooper, did not respond to requests for comment. In a television interview in June, they denied that Cooper struck the back of his head two days before his collapse. They said that they want justice for their son.

Pawlak-Reynolds declined to comment through her attorney. In late February, her husband filed a federal lawsuit against Harper that claims she “knowingly and intentionally falsified, modified and erased exculpatory information” from her evaluation of Cooper, and she diagnosed abusive head trauma to “promote her own personal, academic, reputational and financial needs.”

Harper has yet to respond to the lawsuit. A spokesperson for Hennepin Healthcare, which operates Hennepin County Medical Center, declined to comment on the case or the lawsuit.

“There is no oversight,” Reynolds said. “It’s the thing they’re most resistant against and the thing that is most necessary to stop this legacy of brutality, that results in kids being taken away from innocent caregivers and innocent caregivers going to prison.”

---

In August 2017, Kathryn Campbell called 911 after a 4-month-old girl at her day care seemed lethargic and was “breathing wrong.” First responders did not take the baby to the hospital, but her mother eventually did. At the hospital, MRI scans showed fluid in the baby’s brain and doctors noted small bruises.

Dr. Barbara Knox, a child abuse pediatrician then with the University of Wisconsin, told police it was “obvious child abuse.” The Dane County district attorney charged Campbell with physical abuse of a child. Campbell pleaded not guilty.

But before the 2021 trial, Knox left the University of Wisconsin after she was placed on leave for “unprofessional acts that may constitute retaliation” and intimidation of her own staff. A Wisconsin Watch investigation cast doubt on Knox’s judgment in several cases of alleged abuse.

Knox did not respond to the Wisconsin Watch series or to ProPublica’s requests for comment. After two families in Alaska sued her in 2022, alleging she had wrongly concluded their children had been abused, Knox wrote in an affidavit that she has no control over whether police and child protection services workers take children away from parents, that she did not “conspire” with police or anyone else on custody issues, and that she did not personally evaluate one of the children. The lawsuit was dismissed in 2024 after the families agreed to drop the matter.

Knox moved on to a job at the University of Florida. According to a spokesperson for the university, Knox resigned as a pediatrician with the Child Protective Team in late June, effective Aug. 15. He declined to comment on the circumstances.

At Campbell’s trial, Knox’s name was never mentioned. Instead, Harper stepped in as an expert witness. When Campbell heard Knox had been replaced, she was initially hopeful.

“I’m like, oh, great, new eyes,” Campbell said. “They’re going to look at it and go, ‘This is nuts, I don’t agree with this.’ And I definitely was wrong.”

Harper’s assessment affirmed Knox’s diagnosis of abuse. She told the jury that the bruises were likely caused by squeezing by an adult’s hand. A medical expert hired by Campbell’s defense argued that the child’s bleeding could not be precisely dated and that a preexisting medical condition could have caused it.

After just two hours of deliberation, the jury returned a not guilty verdict. Campbell said she is grateful to have the case concluded, though she said she is still haunted by the accusations against her.

“That was the hardest thing too, going home after this case was done, and being like, ‘Am I allowed to be alone with my children now?’” she said. “It’s all because of the quote-unquote experts not doing their due diligence and looking further into underlying issues that these kids could have.”

In a statement to ProPublica, Dane County District Attorney Ismael Ozanne expressed confidence in both Harper and Knox, saying “their testimony had been consistent with many different medical professionals and experts in their own areas of practice.”

“It is important to note that a not guilty verdict by lay jurors hardly invalidates the widespread acceptance of abusive head trauma as a diagnosis in the medical community nor would it cause us to have concerns about Dr. Harper’s qualifications or knowledge in the field,” he added. “Jurors are not bound to accept any expert testimony as accurate.”

---

In the winter of 2022, a 4-month-old boy began breathing abnormally at his day care in Mineral Point, Wisconsin. His parents took him to a hospital, where he died days later. A police investigation determined that his day care provider, Joanna Ford, left him and several other children alone in her home for over an hour while she went to a tattoo and piercing parlor.

Prosecutors used Harper as an expert witness in the case. After evaluating the child’s medical records, she concluded that his injuries were “clinically diagnostic of abusive head trauma,” or, put another way, Ford shook the baby violently. She was charged with first-degree reckless homicide. Ford pleaded not guilty.

Ford’s defense lawyers successfully petitioned the judge in the case for a hearing to determine whether Harper’s expert witness testimony would be scientifically valid and admissible at trial. In response to questions, Harper explained why the child’s symptoms — brain swelling, blood under his skull, damage to his eyes — pointed to abuse, and why, despite the controversy surrounding it, the diagnosis of abusive head trauma was scientifically sound. She also explained that, because the baby was not walking or crawling, the fact that none of his caregivers could explain his injuries indicated abuse.

“People should know what happened,” she testified.

On cross examination by Ford’s lawyers, Harper said she couldn’t say for certain what time the abuse would have occurred, exactly how Ford had injured the baby and that there are no “great biomechanical models” for shaken baby syndrome.

A little over a month later, Judge Lisa McDougal delivered a highly critical ruling that barred Harper from telling the jury that the child died as the result of “abusive head trauma, non-accidental injury, child abuse or murder.” She also took issue with the idea that a lack of explanation for injuries is indicative of abuse, calling it a “leap in logic.”

“Offering a conclusive opinion as to how an injury may have occurred crosses a line and does not fit within the dictionary definition of what diagnosis is,” McDougal said. The judge also said that Harper views herself as an advocate, and that that casts doubt on her “fidelity to the scientific validation of abusive head trauma diagnoses, especially when it is a close call.”

The murder charge was dismissed. For leaving the children alone, Ford pleaded guilty to the lesser charge of neglect of a child where the consequence is death. She is serving a 10-year prison sentence. Ford, through her attorney, declined a request for an interview. The Iowa County district attorney also declined to comment.

---

On Feb. 4, 2022, Paul and Sarah Marshall hosted a dinner for her parents and a family friend at their home in Hudson, Wisconsin. Afterward, their 7-week-old son, Fox, became fussy. Paul Marshall carried him into the mother-in-law unit on the lower level of the house, which was cool and dark, to try to calm him. He emerged minutes later in a panic, yelling that the baby spit up and stopped breathing.

Paramedics rushed Fox to Children’s Minnesota, a hospital about 25 minutes across the state border in St. Paul. Doctors ran tests, and a scan showed Fox had a skull fracture with fluid pooling on both sides of his brain. He died days later.

Harper examined Fox, as well as his twin sister, Liana, and found “skull fractures, likely rib fractures, metaphyseal fractures.”

“This constellation of findings in a nonambulatory infant is clinically diagnostic of inflicted injury or child physical abuse likely occurring on more than one occasion,” she wrote.

But the Marshalls said that wasn’t true. They told Harper that Sarah Marshall had experienced a difficult pregnancy with gestational diabetes and severe anemia, and that Liana had a vacuum-assisted delivery. Both twins had been to their regular pediatrician over health concerns. While Liana’s health improved, Fox’s had not.

A spokesperson for Children’s Minnesota declined to comment on the case.

Because he was the last person alone with Fox before he stopped breathing, Paul Marshall was charged with first-degree reckless homicide. He was also charged with physical abuse of a child for hurting Liana. Sarah Marshall said there was no evidence that her soft-spoken husband had hurt their children.

“The state wanted to cast me as a naive idiot,” she said. “I chose not to believe it because of the logic and facts in my face. I had no reason to believe the accusation.”

At Paul Marshall’s 2023 trial, his defense lawyer, Aaron Nelson, cross-examined the other doctors who treated or evaluated Fox and Liana, and was able to highlight points of medical disagreement. A doctor who tested Liana for genetic disorders said she could not rule out rickets as a possible cause of her bone fractures. A neuropathologist did not agree with Harper that Fox had a trauma-induced blood clotting disorder. By Harper’s own admission on cross-examination, determining the age of the skull fractures in children Fox and Liana’s age was difficult. Nelson called six of his own medical experts to suggest that the difficult birth or a vitamin deficiency could explain the twins’ injuries.

“How many people have to be wrong for Dr. Harper to be right?” Nelson said in closing arguments.

After an 11-day trial, the jury found Marshall not guilty.

In a statement to ProPublica, St. Croix County District Attorney Karl Anderson pointed out that Harper was not the only treating physician who was concerned that Fox and Liana had been abused.

“A not guilty verdict does not mean that the jury concluded that the children were not abused,” Anderson said. “Rather, it means that they did not conclude that the state proved that Paul Marshall caused the death, beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Six weeks after the trial, the family moved three hours away into a century-old farmhouse that is far from the community that they felt wrongfully villainized by.

One of the cruelest impacts of the abuse diagnosis, they said, came after it was clear that Fox would die and the hospital staff began making preparations for his organs to be donated. Sarah Marshall said she had hoped to someday hear her son’s heart beating in another child’s chest. Instead, a court order put a halt to the procedure.

“They were already treating him as evidence,” she said.

The experience of going from a grieving parent to an accused murderer, her husband said, has given the couple post-traumatic stress. Paul Marshall said he is grateful to be with his wife and children, but what he calls a “broken system” has left them unsure whether or not to have another baby or even be left alone with one of their daughters.

“You get pregnant. You go to all of your appointments. You voice all of your concerns. You do everything you’re supposed to do as a parent and your child still dies. And the state tells you it’s your fault,” Sarah Marshall said. “I don’t understand why I live in a world like that.”

Mariam Elba contributed research.

ProPublica is a Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative newsroom. Sign up for The Big Story newsletter to receive stories like this one in your inbox.

This doctor specializes in diagnosing child abuse. Some of her conclusions have been called into question. is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 3 minutes

It’s tempting to begin a story about Emily Sterk with an anecdote about her advocacy around mass incarceration. 

Or with her reflections on how her privilege plays into that work. Or with an exploration of how her religious faith intertwines with her concern for those caught up in the criminal justice system. 

But she also loves musicals – and is a little embarrassed to admit how much she enjoys “Wicked.” She has a beloved tortoiseshell cat named Stevie and is fond of puzzles. 

Having said all that, people are starting to notice how good she is at what she does, said Krissie Fung, associate director of Milwaukee Turners, the state’s oldest civic organization, where Sterk is completing a fellowship.  

“People have heard her speak in public, and folks are beginning to look to her opinion,” Fung said. 

This ability to gain trust within criminal justice reform circles is especially valuable as the organization grows, said Emilio De Torre, executive director of Turners.

“Having someone who can help us build stronger networks, have an informed leader in these different rooms – it expands our ability to educate others who don’t understand this and to empower people who are impacted but unsure of what to do,” De Torre said.

From the academy 

During her final year of graduate school at Pennsylvania State University, Sterk – in her spare time – taught in two correctional institutions. 

“That was one of the first times I felt like, ‘Oh, well, I should be doing something about this,’” she said. 

Sterk arrived in Milwaukee last fall as a Leading Edge Fellow with the American Council of Learned Societies, a national program that places Ph.D. graduates at justice-focused nonprofits.

At Turners, she conducts research, participates in advocacy and develops policy ideas geared toward confronting mass incarceration.

‘Watching the watchers’

One area Sterk has focused on is civilian oversight of law enforcement. 

At an April 15 meeting of the Milwaukee County Board’s Judiciary, Law Enforcement and General Services Committee, Sterk testified in support of a civilian board that would oversee the Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office. 

She told committee members that, in order to be effective and independent, such a board must have the authority to hire and fire law enforcement officers – including the sheriff – and have policymaking authority. 

Sterk pointed to a 2024 audit of the county jail that, she said, “unearthed deeply troubling policies, practices and procedures that have long since been ingrained in the facility and its staff.” 

She highlighted an instance in which an officer accused of misconduct was assigned to respond to the grievance filed against them.

With emotion in her voice, Sterk reminded supervisors that the audit devoted just three sentences to a suicide attempt that auditors personally witnessed during their visit.

Two weeks after this committee meeting, Sterk presented to the Milwaukee Fire and Police Commission the findings of a six-month monitoring period of the commission’s activity – “watching the watchers,” as Fung put it.

The commission was significantly restructured in July 2023 after Wisconsin Act 12 stripped its ability to shape police policy, shifting that power to police and fire department chiefs.

The public report resulting from the monitoring concluded that the commission “appears to serve as a rubber stamp.”

Honey, not vinegar

However, Sterk is not hostile or self-righteous in her criticism. Care and sincerity are at the center of her approach – even for the offices and bodies she’s criticizing.

At the Fire and Police Commission presentation, multiple commissioners thanked the Turners and echoed the call to improve public engagement.

Currently, Sterk is fostering a collaboration on jail-based voting between the Turners and the League of Women Voters of Milwaukee County. Here, too, her thoughtfulness has left its mark.

“The first thing she talked to me about was educating people about having respect for people who are incarcerated,” said Gail Sklodowska, the second vice president of advocacy and action for the league. “Like how we refer to them, how we talk about them. And I went, ‘Wow, I never even thought of that as a place we should start.’

“But she’s right.”

This combination of rigor, respect and resolve is rooted in deeper values, said Carlos de la Torre, Sterk’s partner and a rector at a church in Chicago. 

“Amidst the work of justice, of restoration, of reconciliation, of liberation,” he said, “Emily knows that there’s a place for beauty in all this.

“The point of all this work is to offer people access to a good life, to the beauty of this world, to be free in creation.”

Sterk’s fellowship ends September 2026, but she is open to staying in Milwaukee after that – and so are others.

“I would love for us – and for Milwaukee – to keep her,” Fung said. 

‘There’s a place for beauty in all this’: Faith informs scholar’s advocacy for Milwaukee’s incarcerated is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 8 minutes

Editor’s note: A UW-Madison police officer is under investigation after a student journalist presented allegations the officer engaged in unsolicited text communications with students and offered to help students avoid underage drinking tickets.

Wisconsin Watch is not naming the officer because he hasn’t been formally disciplined or accused of a crime. The allegations in the following story are based on interviews with 11 students who all spoke on the condition of anonymity, partly for fear of retaliation, but also in order to discuss activities, such as underage drinking and possessing fake IDs, that could result in legal or disciplinary consequences.

***

At last October’s bustling homecoming football game at Camp Randall, a University of Wisconsin-Madison police officer approached a sophomore who recognized him from a recent safety presentation he had given at her sorority.

The officer struck up a conversation with the sophomore and her friends, eventually asking Kate — whose name is a pseudonym — for her phone number. 

“I don’t know why he needed my number in the first place,” Kate said. “Every time he would walk by us, he’d stop and talk to us — you know how they patrol the bleachers? — he was just always hanging out around us there.”

Minutes later the officer began texting Kate to ask if she and her friends wanted food from the concession stands. The group agreed.

“Free food!” Kate recalled thinking.

He texted again: “Hot chocolate next game (eyes emoji). If you’re nice,” according to text messages Kate shared from the officer.

After supplying the stadium snacks, the officer asked Kate to get coffee with him later that week.

Kate dodged the question, hoping to laugh it off and watch the game. But after the game ended, another text popped up at 11:47 p.m. that night asking if she had chosen her coffee spot yet. 

Kate texted her sorority chapter president and asked, “What should I do if (the officer) asked me to get coffee?”

The sorority president texted back, “Just don’t respond.” 

“I literally just never responded to that,” Kate said. “It got to the point where he was trying to go on dates … because I was nice to him, he took it too far and wanted to make it more.”  

Kate was not the only student to experience unprofessional interactions with the same officer. 

Accounts from 11 students, all of whom are affiliated with UW-Madison Greek organizations, describe how the same officer instigated texting relationships, asked female sources on coffee dates, relayed confidential police information to assist students in underage drinking and took students for rides in his squad car without first having them sign a liability waiver. Two male students interviewed for this story described their interactions with the officer positively, but female students viewed the contacts as inappropriate.

The officer’s behavior has persisted for at least four years, but was never the subject of a formal complaint, according to the UW-Madison Police Department. None of the students alleged the officer made any physical advances, and none agreed to go on a date with him.

“The UW-Madison Police Department became aware of the officer misconduct allegations when asked by the author for a comment for this article,” Assistant Chief Kari Sasso said in a statement. “We will review and investigate these claims as appropriate. There have been no formal complaints from community members, students or others regarding this officer. We hold our officers to the highest standards and take all allegations of officer misconduct seriously. We are committed to transparency and accountability within legal and policy boundaries.”

A spokesperson for UW-Madison Chancellor Jennifer Mnookin confirmed that an internal investigation is underway at UWPD.

The officer didn’t respond to a request for comment.

Gaining trust at safety presentations

The UW-Madison police officer serves as a downtown liaison community officer for an area that includes Langdon Street, where many of the university’s sorority and fraternity houses are located. 

Preliminary communication between the officer and students often began within the bounds of his job description. Student leaders reached out to set up semiannual safety presentations at their organizations, largely for students under the legal drinking age. 

The presentations cover campus safety, medical amnesty and behavior-based policing and are discussions intended to help students feel informed and educated from a reputable police source. 

While intended to detail the potential consequences of underage alcohol consumption — not encourage it — the officer’s presentations were peppered with advice for students on how to continue illegally drinking without getting caught, according to an audio recording of one presentation. 

In one presentation the officer told students he would alert underage students ahead of time regarding pre-planned bar checks to help them avoid potential citations — a breach of confidential police information.

Bar checks, often called “raids” by students, serve to ensure bars aren’t serving students under the legal drinking age of 21. Police officers enter the premises while others block exits, requesting IDs from all patrons. Underage patrons in the bar face a fine of up to $1,250 for using a fake ID.

The student sources said over the last four years the officer shared confidential police information regarding bar checks with them over the phone, warning them in advance of the bars Madison police would be checking and the general timeline of the check. 

One student in a leadership position also said he encouraged them to share the information with their personal contacts.

“It’s helpful to us, obviously — also kind of crazy that he goes behind the police station’s back,” Kate said. 

In audio recorded as part of this investigation during one of the officer’s standard safety presentations this past school year, he told freshmen and sophomores, “I promise you I will always help you. If I’m ever involved in a bar check, it’s because I want to make sure that the city cops are actually treating you all with respect.”

“And every now and then I might hold whatever door I’m manning open for the three or four of you to leave without any real consequences — but don’t tell my boss that. I say that because I’ve actually done it,” he continued. “I don’t like bar checks. I hate the fact that you all are in the safest place to be consuming alcohol, rather than a basement or a house party or an apartment, and we’re jamming you all up by giving you tickets.”

The officer also examined the students’ fake IDs, checking if they are realistic enough to allow access at local bars. Kate was one of the students who offered her ID for inspection. 

“That’s how it started,” Kate said. “He was basically like, ‘I owe you a coffee for volunteering.’”

Seth Stoughton, a University of South Carolina law professor and a nationally recognized policing expert, reviewed portions of the audio and said the UW-Madison officer’s presentation is not a standard police presentation on underage drinking.

“What those talks usually look like are how students can avoid breaking the law, how students can avoid trouble — not how students can break the law and not get in trouble for it,” Stoughton said.

Texting relationships with students

The officer only contacted students about bar check alerts over a phone call, multiple sources said. 

“This would be the type of evidence that we use to establish knowledge of guilt; when he’s telling folks, ‘Oh no, I don’t want to put any of that in writing, I don’t want there to be a record of it,’” Stoughton said. “Well, that’s because you are aware that the record could be used against you in some way. So that seems problematic.” 

After obtaining students’ cellphone numbers, the officer began reaching out to them outside of professional protocols: regularly checking in, calling and asking them to meet up. 

For the nine female students interviewed for this story, his frequent check-ins quickly caused discomfort.

“When you’re in it, you think all these things are to help you, and then the further down in the year it got, when I was working with him specifically, I felt like I was putting myself in danger more than being protected,” said a former sorority executive member. “I didn’t want to work with him ever, and I also warned other people, like do not involve yourself. He’s not doing anything for us.”

Caroline, a pseudonym for a recently graduated senior at UW-Madison, felt similarly.

“I remember us being like, ‘Oh my god, he’s texting you now?’ He went through people, he was always texting different people,” Caroline said.

While females in leadership positions said he straddled the line between a professional and personal relationship, others who didn’t serve on executive boards or in organizational leadership, including Kate, are less certain about why he was texting them in the first place — saying there was no professional justification for his outreach.

“All of our texts are very playful and joke-y in what he was saying — it wasn’t like he was professional,” Kate said. 

Offering rides without waivers

Some students and former students claimed that the officer offered them rides in his squad car. 

One source took him up on that offer. 

Allen, a recently graduated UW-Madison student also identified with a pseudonym, claimed he went for a drive with the officer in January 2023 when he was a sophomore. 

“He picked me up in his car and we drove around for like 20 minutes. He asked me about myself. He really made an effort to establish a friendship and a relationship with me, which I really appreciated,” Allen said. “He was just a real beacon of guidance.” 

Records of ride-along waivers signed between Jan. 1, 2022, and Jan. 1, 2025, show only two people signed liability waivers for UW-Madison police ride-alongs over the past three years.

Allen’s name did not appear in any of the signed waivers. He also doesn’t recall signing a waiver.

“I feel like I would remember if I had to sign something,” he said.

Stoughton said it’s a liability issue, should a police officer choose to disregard mandatory waivers. Typically officers will alert dispatchers of a pickup and drop-off to ensure nothing inappropriate happens.

“There are procedures that are in place to help protect everyone’s interest: the police agencies, the individual officers and the community members,” Stoughton continued. “(It) sounds like he is just completely ignoring those standard protocols.”

Male students appreciative, female students uncomfortable

Three UW students, two males and one female, expressed gratitude for the officer’s help in keeping them out of police trouble, especially those who are under 21. 

“I do think there is a very deep appreciation for him making himself as available as possible to everyone, in a plethora of different events and situations,” one fraternity leader said. 

Allen felt similarly. “I was very blown away by his willingness to not just be an administrator, but to be a friend. Not a parental figure — an adviser, but more than that, much more friendly than that,” he said. “We developed a personal friendship.”

But the female students mostly interpreted the officer’s behavior differently.

“His actions blurred the line between authority and familiarity, leaving students unsure of his true intentions,” the sorority leader said. “What I would’ve changed was his approach. Instead of trying to be our ‘friend’ and making us feel like we had an inside connection with campus law enforcement, he should have taken a more traditional and professional role.”

University policy W-5048 covers relationships between those in unequal levels of power, stating that a relationship between an employee and student is “not appropriate when they occur between an employee of the university and a student over whom the employee has or potentially will have supervisory, advisory, evaluative, or other authority or influence.” 

Stoughton said there’s a line in policing, with making yourself available on one side, but affirmatively seeking out individuals in a nonorganizational capacity on the other. 

“It doesn’t surprise me that the female students have a slightly different perspective than male students because male students may be — for several complicated reasons — just less cognizant of that power dynamic,” Stoughton said. “Female students may be much more aware of that power dynamic. It’s the officer’s job, though, to also be aware of it.”

If you have a complaint about the conduct of a UW-Madison Police Department officer, you can file a complaint online or call the department and speak with a supervisor, according to UW-Madison spokesperson John Lucas. The department typically requires a person’s name and doesn’t accept anonymous complaints.

This is an ongoing story. If you or someone you know has had similar encounters with a UWPD officer, please let us know at tips@wisconsinwatch.org.

Crossing the line: UW-Madison investigating police officer who students say acted inappropriately is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Cuban asylum seeker Miguel Jerez Robles returned to family in McFarland on Thursday, a month after ICE agents arrested him following a routine immigration hearing in Miami. 

His arrest was one of the first in a wave of courthouse arrests, which appear to be part of a new strategy by President Donald Trump’s administration to send many people who were in legal immigration processes on a fast-track to deportation. Jerez spent the next four weeks at an ICE detention center in Tacoma, Washington, uncertain what his future would hold. 

Now, he is home. 

“I still don’t believe it. I say it’s a miracle from God,” said Jerez, who got word he’d be released on his own recognizance just minutes before he was scheduled to request a bond before a judge. 

Jerez still doesn’t know why he was arrested, or why he’s now been released. Andrew Billmann, a family friend, contacted Democratic U.S. Sen. Tammy Baldwin as soon as Jerez was detained. Jerez said he thinks that effort, along with news coverage about his detention, likely helped.

He was released on Wednesday with just one other person, a fellow Cuban asylum seeker, though he says he met many other immigrants who came to the detention center in similar circumstances. 

“They’d been living in the U.S. for three years. They had no criminal record. … Their cases were dismissed, and they were detained outside the courtroom,” Jerez said. “And they’re still detained.” 

As he collected his clothes to leave the Northwest ICE Processing Center on Wednesday, an official told him just how unusual his situation was.

“He told me, ‘You’re very lucky because right now we’re not releasing anyone. Everyone who leaves here is going back to their country, or they’ve won an asylum case while detained, or they’ve gotten out on bond,’” Jerez said. 

He agrees that he’s lucky. “There are a lot of people who don’t have the resources to pay for a lawyer. It’s very sad, what I saw inside there.”

Before his release, Jerez was connected with a local immigrant aid organization that brought him to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Billmann said. 

“We booked a redeye for him, from (Seattle) to (Chicago),” Billmann wrote in a text message to the Cap Times and Wisconsin Watch Friday. 

Billmann and his wife, Kathy, joined Jerez’s wife, sister and mother to pick him up at the airport Thursday morning.

Escape from Cuba

When Jerez crossed the U.S.-Mexico border in 2022, he turned himself in to Border Patrol agents and asked for asylum. He’d participated in protests against Cuba’s communist government in 2021 and had been targeted by the police and government ever since, his family said during his detention. Federal and international law requires the United States to allow people to apply for asylum if they fear persecution in their home countries based on their politics or identity.

At the time, Joe Biden was president and border agents routinely allowed asylum seekers to enter the country with temporary legal protections while their cases were pending in immigration court — a process that can take years due to court system backlogs.

Jerez hired a lawyer and followed the steps required by law. Then U.S. voters elected a new president who promised to carry out mass deportations. In January, Trump issued an executive order suspending legal protections for asylum seekers. In May, immigrant advocates say, judges began coordinating with ICE agents to dismiss asylum cases and detain asylum seekers in courthouses.

Jerez was detained in the first few days of that new strategy at courthouses, his attorney said. Jerez had flown to Miami with his wife and mother for the first hearing in his asylum case, usually just a bureaucratic step. Instead, at the request of the federal government’s attorney, the judge tossed his claim without explanation. 

Plainclothes Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents met him outside the courtroom, arresting him and placing him in expedited removal proceedings, where immigrants can face immediate deportation unless they can show a “credible fear” of persecution in their home country for their politics or identity. 

ICE gives no reason for release

Just like his arrest, Jerez’s release left his lawyers and family with questions. 

Billmann said he received an email from Baldwin’s office informing them Jerez would be released Wednesday. 

Ismael Labrador with the Miami-based Gallardo Law Firm, said Friday ICE gave the legal team no explanation for Jerez’s release. 

“We didn’t get anything from the deportation officer regarding the reason why he got released. We just got the good news,” Labrador said, noting the legal team got the call on Wednesday.

The Department of Homeland Security claimed Jerez was taken into custody because he entered the U.S. “illegally.”

“Most aliens who illegally entered the United States within the past two years are subject to expedited removals,” the DHS wrote in an email Friday. “(Former President Joe) Biden ignored this legal fact and chose to release millions of illegal aliens, including violent criminals, into the country with a notice to appear before an immigration judge. ICE is now following the law and placing these illegal aliens, like Miguel Jerez Robles, in expedited removal.”

“(Homeland Security) Secretary Noem is reversing Biden’s catch and release policy that allowed millions of unvetted illegal aliens to be let loose on American streets,” the DHS wrote in the  email.

Jerez arrived in the U.S. more than two years ago and has no criminal record.

The department did not respond to follow up questions on why Jerez was released. 

Baldwin played role behind the scenes

Baldwin confirmed Friday her office pushed for Jerez’s release. 

“From day one, the Trump Administration has sought to divide our communities by attacking immigrants – from executive orders to new policies,” Baldwin wrote in an emailed statement. 

The senator became involved after Billmann contacted her office in May. 

Her office contacted ICE, requesting information on the reason behind Jerez’s detention and the status of his case. 

“After that they checked in with us from time to time,” Billmann wrote in a text message to the Cap Times and Wisconsin Watch. “(But) Wednesday was a total surprise.”

The senator’s office said it followed up multiple times with the ICE’s Seattle field office seeking more information on Jerez’s request for release. On June 24, ICE officials told Baldwin’s office they had no record of a request for release, at which point the senator’s office connected with Jerez’s legal team and re-sent the request to the Seattle office.

“I am glad to have been able to help Miguel reunite with his family and stand ready to continue to fight for Wisconsinites facing similar situations,” Baldwin’s statement said.

Billmann said he and his wife, Kathy, postponed a planned vacation this week after hearing Jerez was coming home. 

“This was a better way to spend the (days),” Billmann said.

Future remains unclear

Despite the family’s joyous reunion, Jerez’s future remains shrouded in uncertainty. 

On June 12, while at the detention center in Tacoma, Jerez completed an interview to assess the validity of his fear of persecution in Cuba. 

Jerez’s attorney said the law firm has not yet received the results and does not know when it will receive that information. 

“We should have gotten that by now,” Labrador said. 

Labrador said Friday he and other lawyers had appealed Jerez’s expedited removal as soon as he was arrested in May. If Jerez wins that appeal, they will file a second asylum request. If he loses that appeal, he may be forced to return to ICE custody.

For now, Jerez said, it looks like he may be back where he was before his month-long imprisonment. When he was released from detention on Wednesday, he was handed the same I-220A form he’d received when he crossed the U.S. border. 

He and his wife, Geraldine Cruz Dip, said they’re glad for a fresh chance to make his asylum case “in freedom.”

“As it should be,” Cruz said.

Wisconsin asylum seeker sees ‘miracle from God’ in unexplained release from ICE detention is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

Reading Time: 10 minutes

Click here to read highlights from the story

• Last month, a McFarland man who arrived in the U.S. three years ago from Cuba attended what he thought would be the first hearing in his asylum case. Instead, in what appears to be a nationwide trend, a judge dismissed his case and ICE arrested him.

• Miguel Jerez Robles was among the first people swept up in a recent wave of arrests inside immigration court buildings, a place considered off limits for such enforcement until the Trump administration loosened restrictions.

• His story illustrates the volatility and randomness of the country’s immigration processes. While Jerez is now imprisoned in a Tacoma, Washington, detention center, his sister — who arrived in the U.S. just days later and was given different paperwork — has a green card.

Editor’s note: A day after this story was published Miguel Jerez Robles was released from an ICE detention center in Tacoma, Washington. Read an update here.

When McFarland resident Miguel Jerez Robles boarded a plane to Miami last month, he thought he’d be attending a routine immigration hearing about his asylum application and enjoying a rare vacation with his wife and mother. 

The 26-year-old and his family had come to Wisconsin in 2022, fleeing political persecution from the Cuban government. They moved to the village just outside Madison, home to a friend his brother-in-law met while driving a taxi in Santiago de Cuba. 

Jerez rented an apartment near the high school and got a job delivering packages all over southern Wisconsin, first for FedEx and later for an Amazon subcontractor. He and his wife started a popular YouTube channel, Cubanitos en la USA, where they shared videos about what it was like to work as a delivery driver, buy a car or shop for groceries in Wisconsin.

The Florida trip was Jerez’s first vacation since arriving. Jerez planned to go to the May 22 preliminary hearing in his asylum case, then take his family to the beach and explore the city.

Instead, immigration authorities arrested Jerez and sent him to a detention center, sweeping him up in what appears to be a coordinated strategy to fast-track deportations.   

When Jerez appeared in the Miami courtroom, a federal attorney asked the judge to dismiss his asylum claim. According to Jerez’s family, the judge agreed without explanation, then wished him luck. 

Jerez headed to meet his wife, Geraldine Cruz Dip, and his mother, Celeste Robles Chacón, who were waiting just outside the fifth-floor courtroom. 

Plainclothes Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents were waiting too. They handcuffed and arrested him before he could reach his family, his mother said.

Three days later, Jerez was shackled and flown to a detention center in Tacoma, Washington, through a process called expedited removal, which allows the government to deport certain immigrants without first hearing their cases in court.

His wife and mother returned home to McFarland alone.

“The vacation turned into a nightmare,” Cruz said. “Everything fell apart in a moment.”

Jerez was among the first people swept up in a recent wave of arrests inside immigration court buildings, a place considered off limits for such enforcement until the Trump administration loosened restrictions earlier this year. Some, like Jerez, report judges unexpectedly dismissing their cases in what some immigrants and attorneys believe is a coordinated effort to quickly detain large numbers of people as soon as they lose legal immigration status — including those who, like Jerez, have no criminal history.  

“It’s easier to go to a courthouse and pick up everyone there than go searching for them at home,” Cruz said.

These arrests, which appear to have begun in late May, are part of President Donald Trump’s sweeping immigration crackdown, some of which he promised on the campaign trail. The scale and methods reach far beyond what many expected from an administration that has vowed to prioritize removing people who threaten public safety. Recent ICE raids at schools and other sensitive locations have sparked multi-day protests in Los Angeles and other major cities.

For asylum seekers like Jerez, who followed steps laid out by the previous administration, the policy shift means they’ll now likely have to make their cases from behind bars. 

His story illustrates the volatility and randomness of  the country’s immigration processes. Had Jerez arrived five years earlier, before President Barack Obama ended the “wet foot/dry foot” policy that applied to Cuban immigrants since the 1960s, he and his family would have immediately qualified for legal status and a pathway to citizenship. And if he’d only been given the same paperwork as his sister — who arrived for the same reasons just days later — he may have a green card today like she does.

Attorneys: Judges and ICE collaborate in courthouse arrests 

Jerez’s arrest shocked his attorneys too. For much of the past two decades, officials reserved the expedited removal process for immigrants arrested near the border within two weeks of arriving in the country. 

Former President George W. Bush first implemented these guidelines in 2004. However, during his first term, Trump expanded use of expedited removal procedures to include immigrants anywhere in the United States who have spent less than two years in the country. Former President Joe Biden rescinded that expansion, only to see Trump restore it in January through one of the first executive orders of his new term. 

People who are convicted of certain felonies can face expedited removal outside of normal parameters. 

“But these people, they are clean. They have no crimes, no record, no nothing,” Ismael Labrador, an attorney with Miami-based Gallardo Law Firm who is representing Jerez, said of those affected by Trump’s latest tactics.  

Jerez has been in the country longer than two years. But the Trump administration argues expedited removal should apply to similarly situated immigrants, as long as immigration authorities processed them within two years of their arrival. 

“He had everything in order, and he was arbitrarily arrested and placed in expedited removal when he doesn’t qualify to be in expedited removal,” Labrador said. 

The American Civil Liberties Union of New York sued the Trump administration in January, arguing Trump violated the rulemaking process and the Fifth Amendment’s due process clause in expanding the scope of expedited removal.

Now, the administration is further accelerating removals by dispatching ICE agents to courthouses to immediately arrest following the dismissal of immigration cases. 

Labrador isn’t surprised immigration judges, government attorneys and ICE agents appear to be collaborating on the plan. While the federal government’s judicial branch houses most judges, immigration judges are part of the executive branch, employed by the Department of Justice. 

“They work for the same boss,” he said, referring to Trump. 

In light of the new practice, the nonprofit National Immigration Project recommends immigration attorneys consider requesting virtual hearings to protect clients from courthouse arrest. 

The group released that guidance in May, just a week after Jerez’s arrest.  

“Unfortunately, if I remember correctly, he was imprisoned on the second day this new (courthouse arrest) strategy had begun,” Labrador said. “It was a surprise to all of us.”

Some of Labrador’s other clients have been detained in similar ways, prompting him to begin requesting virtual hearings. 

He followed the rules. Then the rules changed.

Jerez sought asylum in the United States after mass demonstrations in his homeland in 2021, when people in dozens of Cuban cities took to the streets to protest shortages of food and medicine, as well as their government’s strict response to the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Jerez had spoken out against Cuba’s communist government and refused to perform his mandatory military service, putting him and his family in the crosshairs of the authorities, Cruz said. She recalled a time when police interrogated him for six hours and broke his cellphone.

“They told him that the same thing would happen to us as to that phone,” Cruz said. Another time, she said, the police chief came to the family’s home ahead of another round of protests and told them that if they wanted to live, they’d stay home. 

The couple lost their jobs at a Chinese restaurant, she said, after police threatened to shut it down if they weren’t fired. The pressure wouldn’t let up, Cruz said, so Jerez and three family members flew to Nicaragua in separate trips and then spent two months traveling by land to the U.S.-Mexico border.

Jerez and his family followed all the government’s requirements while pursuing permanent legal status, his immigration attorneys said.

That included presenting themselves to Border Patrol agents and requesting asylum when they arrived in Nogales, Arizona, in 2022. Jerez was handed an immigration form called an I-220A, allowing immigrants to be released into the United States as long as they stay on the government’s radar — following certain rules and appearing at all court hearings. 

After the family settled in McFarland, Jerez drove to Milwaukee every year for a check-in with  immigration agents. He never missed an appointment, his wife said. The government issued a  work permit that authorized him to work in the U.S. until 2029. 

In 2023, Jerez’s sister Vivianne received a green card, making her a permanent U.S. resident.  That’s because she received different paperwork upon her release at the border. It placed her on humanitarian parole, which provides temporary legal status to people from certain countries. 

The 1966 Cuban Adjustment Act allows Cubans to apply for permanent residency after having lived in the United States for more than a year. But Jerez was not eligible while his asylum case was pending in immigration court. The U.S. Board of Immigration Appeals ruled in 2023 that immigrants with I-220A status could not apply for green cards. 

Meanwhile, a Trump executive action ended humanitarian parole for people arriving from a slew of countries, including Cuba.  

Border agents’ choice to nudge a brother and sister toward divergent immigration pathways appears to be random, the family said. That fits a trend, said Labrador, as border agents receive little to no guidance — and wide discretion — on what paperwork fits each situation. 

Seeking asylum a second time 

Once in expedited removal proceedings, immigrants can be immediately deported unless the government determines they have “credible fear” that they would be persecuted in their home country because of their political views or identity.

On June 12, guards at the Northwest ICE Processing Center in Tacoma told Jerez to get dressed to go to the library, his sister said. When he got there, he learned this would be his official interview about why he’s afraid to return to Cuba — determining whether he’ll get a chance to bring his asylum case.

No one has told Jerez when he’ll learn the result, Cruz said, so she asked ChatGPT. 

“It says it takes three to five business days, so I think it would be this week,” Cruz said in a June 17 interview. As of Friday, she was still waiting for news.

Based on Labrador’s experience, it can take up to a month. 

If Jerez passes the interview, his lawyers will file a second asylum application. But that wouldn’t prompt Jerez’s release. 

“He will have to defend his case in custody, unfortunately,” Labrador said. 

Jerez’s mother calls uncertainty “psychological torture” for detainees.

Guards have offered Jerez and other detainees the chance to sign papers consenting to be deported, Cruz said. 

“From the time they arrest them, the first thing they say is, ‘Sign this and you’ll go to your home country, or prepare to be detained here for up to two years,’” Cruz said. 

Jerez and his family are still trying to understand why the government detained him after he did everything it asked, including attending immigration and court appointments, working and paying taxes.

“He doesn’t have so much as a traffic ticket,” his sister, Vivianne, said. 

But they know he’s not alone. On TikTok, they see one woman after another “crying because they took their children or their husbands,” Cruz said. 

They know others who voted for Trump, thinking he’d only deport criminals, only to have their loved ones detained too, Cruz added. 

“He just wants white Americans who speak English when really Latinos are this country’s main workforce,” she said. “If they said they were going to search for people with criminal records, why are they arresting people who don’t have any kind of criminal record?”

In a recent New York Times interview, Trump’s border czar, Tom Homan, claimed the administration is prioritizing “the worst first” for deportation but acknowledged other immigrants may get swept up in the fray.

“We’re prioritizing public safety threats, people who have committed crimes in this country or who have committed crimes in their home country and came here to hide,” Homan said. “But I’ve also said from Day One, if you’re in the country illegally, you’re not off the table.”

U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement did not respond to questions about Jerez’s detention.

‘A total disaster’

To talk to his family from the Tacoma detention center, Jerez waits his turn to make video calls on a tablet shared by around a dozen detainees. 

On those calls, he usually looks sad, Cruz said. She thinks detention has made him depressed. 

Labrador also tries to speak with Jerez as often as possible. The conditions at the facility, one of the country’s largest, are “a total disaster,” he said.

“They are sleeping on the ground. They are being moved constantly. They are waking up in the middle of the night for (head) counting,” he said, adding that fights occur regularly and detainees get little to no medical treatment.  

But Jerez’s mood was better last Saturday. When he called his family that day, his sister had just returned from protesting the Trump administration at the “No Kings” rally in McFarland, where she’d carried a hand-written sign covered with family photos . 

“Freedom for Miguel,” it read. “He is not a criminal. He is a husband, a son and brother.”

He smiled as they showed him photos and told him about the people who approached her to express sympathy or outrage. Some hugged her and cried. Some said they would pray for her brother. 

Cruz saved screenshots from that call. In the three weeks since his detention began, Vivianne said, it was the first time she’d seen him looking happy. 

Andrew Billmann, the friend her husband met in his taxi years before, protested alongside Vivianne Jerez, carrying a sign that included a QR code with more information about the detention.

“This is not someone that snuck in. This is not someone who’s trying to conceal their location. He’s been completely forthcoming from the beginning,” Billmann said in an interview. 

Billmann and his wife, Kathy, have helped the family settle in McFarland, find housing, set up bank accounts and stay on top of their immigration paperwork. 

“They’ve literally done everything right,” Billmann said. “I helped Miguel get his driver’s license. He’s got a Social Security number, a work permit. This is all as it’s supposed to go.”

Instead, the arrest has upended life for the whole family. Vivianne canceled her June 9 wedding ceremony. That cost the couple $1,000, but they couldn’t stomach trying to celebrate. Their loved ones cried as the couple quietly signed their marriage license at the McFarland apartment they share with her mother. 

And now? The family waits. 

Vivianne, who worked as a doctor in Cuba, recently finished training to become a U.S. registered nurse. Her graduation photo sits in her living room, but she hasn’t celebrated that feat either. On the coffee table sit the now-shriveled roses Jerez gave his mom for Mother’s Day. She can’t bring herself to throw them out. 

On the couch, Cruz sorts through the evidence she’s marshaled as proof of her husband’s good character: the letter from the Madison Police Department saying he had no record with the department, the awards he received from his delivery jobs, the letter in which his boss called him “an exemplary employee” and said he was “praying for his eventual return.”

Cruz, who drives for the same company, has continued delivering Amazon packages to pay the bills.

Billmann set up a GoFundMe page where community members can donate money to help Cruz cover living expenses while her detained husband can’t work. 

If the court gives Jerez another chance at release, she plans to use that money to pay his bond.

“They’re just wonderful, wonderful people,” Billmann said. “It’s just absolutely crazy what they’re putting this family through.”

The story was co-produced by The Cap Times and Wisconsin Watch.

‘The vacation turned into a nightmare’: Wisconsin asylum seeker detained in unprecedented wave of courthouse arrests is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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As Wisconsin’s prison population climbs toward pre-pandemic levels, Senate Bill 153 seeks to expand alternatives to incarceration.

Wisconsin’s Treatment Alternatives and Diversion program was established in 2005 to provide counties with funding to create programs to divert adults with nonviolent criminal charges into community-based treatment for substance abuse. 

Senate Bill 153 would formally expand the scope of these programs to explicitly include individuals with mental health issues.

Access to more funding

While some counties, including Milwaukee, already provide some diversion options for individuals with mental health needs, Senate Bill 153 could allow Milwaukee County to access funding not currently available. 

“The Milwaukee County District Attorney’s Office has always supported the expansion of the Treatment Alternatives and Diversion program to include those individuals with severe and persistent mental health issues in addition to those with alcohol and drug dependency issues,” said Jeffrey Altenburg, Milwaukee County’s chief deputy district attorney.

He added that such an expansion would allow the district attorney’s office to focus most of its traditional prosecutorial resources on violent crime. 

Bipartisan support

State Sen. André Jacque, R-New Franken, who co-authored the bill, said that the legislation enjoys broad bipartisan support as well as backing from those who work inside the criminal justice system.

“Folks that I’ve talked to – whether it’s probation and parole, law enforcement more generally – these are folks that see that it works because you don’t see repeat involvement in the criminal justice system,” he said. 

“It is transformative and uplifting when you see the changes that people are able to make in their lives.”

Marshall Jones, currently incarcerated at Fox Lake Correctional Institution, hopes more lawmakers have that sort of mindset. 

“If politicians were more proactive in helping people in the system address the underlying issues they have, then more people will be in a position to experience lasting, genuine change,” Jones said.

Research shows that treating the underlying causes of criminal behavior helps individuals rebuild their lives after incarceration and prevents future offenses.

“Most people who have mental health issues are already running or hiding from a fear they have,” said Aaron Nicgorski, a patient at a Wisconsin Department of Health Services facility. 

“Providing treatment says ‘Hey, we understand you have an issue, here are some programs to get you on a path to a better future’ versus ‘Hey, we’re gonna put you in a cage to think about what you’ve done.’”

Diversion vs. incarceration

Over time, the criminal justice system has recognized that many people commit crimes because of economic or psychological factors rather than some sort of character flaw. 

Diversion – the process by which people get “diverted” into voluntary programs and away from formal prosecution – has been used to address these factors.

“The whole idea is to divert them from the traditional system and get them placed with, hopefully, programs that can break the cycle of any criminal behavior,” said Nick Sayner, co-founder and chief executive officer of JusticePoint, a Milwaukee-based nonprofit organization that provides diversion-related services among other criminal justice programs.

Breaking that cycle is better for the public’s safety as well as the safety of the person being diverted, said Mark Rice, coordinator for the Wisconsin Transformational Justice Campaign at WISDOM, a statewide faith-based organization.

It’s also much more cost-effective to treat people in communities rather than to incarcerate them, Rice added.

Incarceration is not an experience that lends itself to improving a person’s mental health, he said.

“One man attempted to commit suicide; several other men had to be put on suicide watch; others mutilated themselves,” said Rice, referring to his time in the special needs unit at the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility. 

What’s next?

On May 8, the Senate Committee on Judiciary and Public Safety unanimously recommended Senate Bill 153 for passage. It is now awaiting scheduling for a vote by the full Senate.

People can track the bill’s progress on the Wisconsin Legislature’s website. 

Wisconsin lawmakers seek to expand alternatives to incarceration for people with mental illness is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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As the Milwaukee Police Department moves to expand its use of facial recognition technology, a June report from the federal government finds this technology continues to disproportionately misidentify people of color. 

Elected officials and civil rights groups have been raising this concern as a clear reason why MPD’s plan should be paused or rejected entirely.  

MPD says there are ways to address this limitation. 

The Milwaukee Equal Rights Commission on Wednesday, June 18, will hold a public meeting to assess potential discrimination-related risks. 

The report

In 2019, the U.S. National Institute of Standards and Technology released a major report evaluating how demographics affect outcomes in facial recognition systems. 

The report found skin color and ethnicity often had an effect. 

With domestic law enforcement images, for example, the system most often led to false positives – when someone is incorrectly identified – for American Indians. Rates were also elevated for African American and Asian populations. 

On June 2, the agency issued a report showing that facial recognition systems were more likely to mistake people from predominantly darker-skinned regions for someone else. This included people from sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia and the Caribbean, compared with people from Europe and Central Asia. 

Higher rates of misidentifications for people of color raise concerns that facial recognition could lead to more wrongful stops and arrests by police.  

MPD’s plan

MPD Chief of Staff Heather Hough, speaking during an April meeting of the Milwaukee Fire and Police Commission, said the department has used facial recognition technology in the past in coordination with other police departments. 

She stressed its crime-fighting benefits. 

“Facial recognition technology is a valuable tool in solving crimes and increasing public safety,” Hough said. 

Milwaukee Mayor Cavalier Johnson supports the use of this technology for the same reason, Jeff Fleming, spokesperson for the mayor’s office, wrote in an email.

“Identifying, apprehending and bringing to justice criminals in our city does reduce crime,” Fleming wrote. 

During the commission meeting, Paul Lau, who oversees MPD’s criminal investigations bureau, said the department is considering an official agreement with a company called Biometrica. 

“We anticipate this usually being used by our detective bureau in the investigation of major violent felonies,” Lau said.   

Community response

Emilio De Torre, executive director of Milwaukee Turners, cited some of the 2019 federal findings in an op-ed, arguing that “entrusting facial recognition to routine policing is not public safety; it is an avoidable risk that history shows will fall hardest on Black Milwaukeeans.” 

Milwaukee Turners is one of 19 organizations that sent a letter to the Milwaukee Common Council expressing concerns about surveillance technology. The letter urges the council to adopt an ordinance ensuring community participation in deciding if and how it is used.

Some members of the Common Council have come out in strong opposition to MPD’s plan as well. 

“It’s both embarrassing and dangerous for false positives to occur at such a high rate,” Alderman José G. Pérez, Common Council president, told NNS. 

Such flaws would likely lead to due process violations, he said. 

Addressing flaws

Hough said MPD knows there are people in the community who are “very leery” of police using this technology, adding that their “concerns about civil liberties are important.” 

“I want to make it very clear: Facial recognition on its own is never enough. It requires human analysis and additional investigation.”

MPD is committed to a “thoughtful, intentional and mindful” policy that considers community input, Hough said. 

Lau said MPD will look into racial bias training provided by Biometrica, and people using the technology will need to have training on best practices. 

Biometrica directly addresses concerns about racial disparities on its website.  

The company says errors identified in 2019 stemmed from several flaws that can be countered with, for example, anti-bias training for analysts who review facial recognition alerts.  

Who gets to decide?

Since Wisconsin Act 12, Milwaukee Police Chief Jeffrey Norman is free to develop any official policy he chooses. The Common Council has the only formal check that exists.

By a two-thirds vote – or 10 of Milwaukee’s 15 aldermen – the council can block or modify MPD policies. But it must wait for a policy to be officially implemented. 

The state Legislature could pass a statewide ban or restrictions, and the Common Council could adopt an ordinance regulating or banning its use.

Alderman Alex Brower told NNS he will be doing everything in his power, as a member of the Common Council, to oppose MPD’s acquisition of facial recognition technology. 

What residents can do

People will have an opportunity to share their opinions about MPD’s plan – for and against – at an upcoming meeting of the Milwaukee Equal Rights Commission.

Commission members will use testimony about facial recognition to help determine the discrimination-related risks it may pose, said Tony Snell, chair of the commission.

“We want to listen to as many people as possible,” Snell said. 

The commission can make recommendations to the Common Council, the mayor, MPD and the Fire and Police Commission. 

The commission meeting will be held at 4 p.m. Wednesday, June 18, at Milwaukee City Hall, 200 E. Wells St.

People may attend in person or virtually. 

Those who wish to speak must register by emailing ERC@milwaukee.gov. Each speaker will have up to three minutes. People can also send written testimony to this email address so it can be included in the public record. 

Milwaukee police push for more facial recognition technology as federal report shows persistent bias is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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A police officer forced out of a suburban Milwaukee department for appearing to skip a lot of work and claiming many questionable comp days is now working for a small-town department in Waukesha County.

Amanda Lang resigned from the Glendale Police Department in 2021 after an internal investigation found she had more than 230 paid hours unaccounted for between 2019 and 2021. At her wage of $40 an hour, those hours added up to $9,300, the investigation noted.

“Based on the discovery of leaving early, along with the substantial number of full shifts not accounted for, one can only wonder how many other times she has left significantly early without documentation,” then-Captain Rhett Fugman wrote in his investigation, which The Badger Project obtained in a records request.

The captain recommended Lang be fired, and she resigned in April of 2021.

She worked for Glendale in the Milwaukee suburbs for more than 13 years, rising to the level of sergeant, before her resignation.

“As a sergeant, additional responsibility and trust was provided to Sgt. Lang,” Fugman wrote. “Her actions and inactions displayed regarding leaving early and posting off time over the last two plus years have displayed a lack of integrity, honesty and trustworthiness.”

“These characteristics are the foundation of what we are as police officers,” he continued.

Lang was hired by the Lannon Police Department later in 2021 and has worked there since.

Lannon Police Chief Daniel Bell said his department “follows rigorous background checks and screening procedures for all new hires to ensure they align with the standards and integrity expected of our officers,” including for Lang.

“During the interview process, we were satisfied with her explanation of the situation,” Bell said of her resignation.

Lang is “consistently demonstrating professionalism, dedication and a strong commitment to community policing,” he added.

She has been promoted to lieutenant, the second in command of the 12-officer department.

Another officer employed by the Lannon Police Department, Nathaniel Schweitzer, was forced out of the police department in the town of Waterford in Racine County late last year. Like Lang, he “resigned prior to the completion of an internal investigation,” according to the Wisconsin Department of Justice’s database on officers who left a law enforcement position under negative circumstances.

Number of wandering officers in Wisconsin continues to rise

The total number of law enforcement officers in Wisconsin has dropped for years and now sits at near record lows as chiefs and sheriffs say they struggle to fill positions in an industry less attractive to people than it once was.

Unsurprisingly, the number of wandering officers, those who were fired or forced out from a previous job in law enforcement, continues to rise. Nearly 400 officers in Wisconsin currently employed were fired or forced out of previous jobs in law enforcement in the state, almost double the amount from 2021. And that doesn’t include officers who were pushed out of law enforcement jobs outside of the state and who came to Wisconsin to work.

Chiefs and sheriffs can be incentivized to hire wandering officers, experts say. Hiring someone new to law enforcement means the police department or sheriff’s office has to pay for recruits’ academy training and then wait for them to finish before they can start putting new hires on the schedule.

A wandering officer already has certification and can start working immediately.

Nearly 2,400 officers in the state have been flagged by their former law enforcement employers as having a “negative separation” since the state DOJ launched its database in 2017.

Most are simply young officers who did not succeed in a new job during their probationary period, when the bar to fire them is very low, experts say. But some have more serious reasons for being pushed out.

Law enforcement agencies can look up job applicants in that database to get more insight into their work history. And a law enacted in 2021 in Wisconsin bans law enforcement officers from sealing their personnel files and work histories, a previously common tactic for officers with a black mark on their record.

About 13,400 law enforcement officers are currently employed in Wisconsin, excluding those who primarily work in a corrections facility, according to the Wisconsin Department of Justice. Wandering officers make up nearly 3% of the total.

At least one major study published in the Yale Law Journal has found that wandering officers are more likely to receive a complaint for a moral character violation, compared to new officers and veterans who haven’t been fired or forced out from a previous position in law enforcement.

Sammie Garrity contributed to this report.

This article first appeared on The Badger Project and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

The Badger Project is a nonpartisan, citizen-supported journalism nonprofit in Wisconsin.

Milwaukee-area cop quit last police job after appearing to miss 200+ work hours is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Despite arrests by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents at the Milwaukee County Courthouse complex, many county officials want residents to know that courthouse services remain available regardless of citizenship status.

Israel Ramón, the Milwaukee County register of deeds, sees access to his office at the courthouse as a fundamental right of every resident in the county.

“I work for 950,000 people,” Ramón said. 

What is a register of deeds?

When people think of essential county services, the register of deeds might not come to mind. But Ramón has a way of making his office sound impossible to live without. 

If people want to drive a car, prove legal identity, apply for Social Security or access food benefits in Milwaukee County, among other tasks, they need documents maintained by Ramón’s office.

When Wisconsin became a state in 1848, the register of deeds was established as one of a handful of constitutional county offices – positions created by the state constitution and filled by local elections. 

Like a sheriff or a judge, people needed a register of deeds to help organize aspects of their daily lives. 

It’s the same today, Ramón said. 

“Most of the time, people don’t think that my office impacts their lives. But from birth to death and throughout their tenure in the county – my office does it all.” 

Ramón’s office issues birth, death, marriage and divorce certificates – documents known as vital records.

His office also records and archives real property documents for Milwaukee County. Real property includes real estate – the physical land and buildings – as well as the legal rights associated with owning, using and transferring it.

Altogether, Ramón said his office maintains an archive of about 12 million documents. 

Access to courthouse complex

All residents of Milwaukee County, Ramón argues, deserve access to these records – regardless of race, ethnicity, sexual orientation or immigration status. 

If, for example, an undocumented mother needs to obtain a birth certificate for her U.S.-born son to enroll him in school, she has the same right to that document as any other parent, according to Ramón. 

Ramón believes the ICE arrests at the courthouse complex threaten that right.

These arrests also threaten access to the full range of services offered in the complex, said Alan Chavoya, outreach chair of the Milwaukee Alliance Against Racism & Political Repression, a community group critical of the immigration policies of the Trump administration. 

Chavoya spoke with NNS at an April news conference at the courthouse, organized to oppose ICE arrests there. 

“People don’t realize that this complex actually houses so many different services,” Chavoya said. “The county supervisors are here. People pay some taxes here. I served jury duty here.”

“A restraining order – you’re supposed to be able to get help here to file one,” he added. “People who might need one but have mixed status probably aren’t going to come here to get one, right?”

ICE at the courthouse

The Milwaukee County Board of Supervisors adopted a resolution on April 24 calling on the county executive, chief judge and sheriff to work together to ensure access to courthouse services. 

However, the resolution does not impose any new restrictions on immigration enforcement. 

Ramón remains focused on what he can do. He said he will ask anyone not conducting official business in his office to leave, including ICE agents without a judicial warrant. 

A judicial warrant allows officers to make arrests in both private and public areas, while administrative warrants – typically used for immigration-related arrests – permit arrests only in public areas. 

As a constitutional officer, the register of deeds has authority over how services are provided, in accordance with state and federal laws, said a spokesperson from the Milwaukee County Executive’s Office. 

Failing to remove barriers that prevent people from accessing his office, including fear of immigration enforcement, would mean failing to uphold the oath of office he took, Ramón said.

His office also offers free notary services to all Milwaukee County residents, including for documents immigrant rights groups are urging families to prepare. 

This includes legal documents such as power-of-attorney forms, which people fearing family separation can use to ensure someone else is able to legally care for their children or manage their finances. 

But, again, Ramón makes clear that this service is for every resident of the county. 

In addition to what he sees as his public duties, he draws on his personal background to underscore his commitment to accessibility. 

He told NNS he is a U.S. citizen born in Mexico, the first Latino constitutional officer in Wisconsin and one of the first openly LGBTQ+ ones.

Gesturing to the LGBTQ+, U.S. and Mexican flags displayed on his bookshelf, Ramón said, “That’s who I am.” 

For more information

Milwaukee County residents can request records in person, online or by phone, depending on the type of record. 

For more information or to request records online, visit the Milwaukee County Register of Deeds website. 

Ramón’s office can be reached at 414-278-4021 with questions. 

The office is located at 901 N. 9th St., Room 103, and is open to the public Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. 

People can find a list of other services available at the courthouse complex. 

‘I work for 950,000 people’: Milwaukee County official reminds residents of their rights amid ICE arrests is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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As they hit the streets, members of 414LIFE, a community and hospital-based violence intervention program, know their efforts could literally mean the difference between life and death. 

That theory was put to the test recently when 414LIFE members showed up to diffuse a neighborhood dispute that also involved law enforcement officers on Milwaukee’s North Side. If not for that intervention, Lynn Lewis, executive director of 414LIFE, believes the incident could have ended in tragedy. 

“Frontline workers go into situations where emotions are high, where people are riled up and thinking about retaliation,” Lewis said. 

As temperature rises, so can violence

Lewis said her 414LIFE team of 15 violence interrupters and outreach workers has hit the streets hard in recent weeks, responding to an uptick in violence. 

“There have been about seven shootings and four homicides in the last 72 hours,” Lewis said during a community pop-up recently near Milwaukee Fire Station 5 on the North Side. 

Reggie Moore is the director of violence prevention policy and engagement at the Comprehensive Injury Center at the Medical College of Wisconsin, which implements the program for the city of Milwaukee.

He said shootings over the past three weeks have kept the 414LIFE team busy. 

Many of the shootings, he said, involved interfamily conflict or intimate partner violence. And while the violence typically rises with the temperature, Moore said, it’s the sheer volume of guns on the streets that presents the biggest problem. 

“The presence of a firearm increases the risk of arguments or conflicts resulting in serious injuries or death,” he said. “People are losing their lives and freedom over a moment of anger. 

“Our team along with our partners have been working around the clock responding to scenes and hospitals to support impacted families and neighborhoods.” 

‘Life is bigger than just the hood’

Lewis said the group held several pop-ups recently along with staff from Credible Messengers, a Milwaukee County violence intervention program. One was at Tiefenthaler Park, 2501 W. Galena St., where a shooting occurred after a vigil recently. 

“We talk to people in hot spots like that about the need to change up before they end up incarcerated or dead,” Lewis said. “We need to stop the bleeding.” 

The interrupters are well versed in the street lifestyle, having lived through the same challenges that people in the community face now. 

One message they share, whether it’s with youths or adults, Lewis said, “is that life is bigger than just the hood.” 

They talk about goals and share resources such as information on jobs, food and other programs to help the people they serve build social capital and eventually change their attitudes toward gun violence, she said. 

“Milwaukee, we need to stop shooting and start healing,” Lewis said. 

Community violence intervention programs like 414 LIFE take a public health approach to reducing violence and improving community safety, Moore said.

He said the 414LIFE program, which was inspired by the Blueprint for Peace, is the longest community violence intervention program in Milwaukee. 

In addition to a street team, 414LIFE also has a hospital-based component that offers services to victims of gun violence.  

“Our colleagues at Froedtert Hospital are also feeling the weight of these shootings just as much as our street teams on the front line,” Moore said. “Working in the streets and hospitals, 414LIFE has been engaging with families and others impacted by shootings across the city.” 

The 414LIFE community team was involved in 49 conflict mediations in 2024, with nearly 90% being resolved, Moore said during a May 22 presentation on the program to the Common Council’s Public Safety and Health Committee. 

The team spent 1,388 hours on conflict resolution activities and 2,678 hours on behavior and community norm change activities and worked with 25 youths in 2024. 

Aside from mediations, team members also have active caseloads of individuals referred to them by hospitals, the Office of Community Wellness and Safety and individuals they’ve met during outreach. 

Data from 414LIFE’s April monthly report shows that caseloads have increased recently, from 36 in January to 50 in April. The team has logged more than 1,200 hours so far this year on behavior change and public accompaniment efforts and more than 100 hours on direct violence intervention. 

Evidence of the program’s effectiveness, according to Moore, is that last year’s 414LIFE priority neighborhood, Old North Milwaukee, experienced a 31% decrease in homicides and a 6% decrease in nonfatal shootings in 2024, based on data from the Milwaukee Police Department. 

So far this year, homicides are down 50% and nonfatal shootings 43% in Old North Milwaukee. 

During his presentation to the Public Safety and Health Committee, Moore said each homicide in Milwaukee costs the city more than $2 million in hospital, criminal investigation, incarceration and other costs, while each shooting costs the city over half a million dollars. 

Who are 414LIFE members? 

While lived experience helps 414LIFE’s street team talk the talk and walk the walk, it’s the extensive training the members receive that gives them the tools to walk into a volatile situation to prevent bloodshed. 

Lewis said her team operates under the Cure Violence model, which works to reduce the risk of retaliation, revictimization and other community violence through credible messengers.  

To strengthen those skills, each member goes through the Academy for Transformational Change training, which uses a community asset approach to serve neighborhoods most impacted by crime and incarceration. 

Members also receive shooting response, Narcan, Stop the Bleed, Mental Health First Aid and other training, she said. 

“The team is highly trained,” Lewis said. “They also have passion and grit.” 

Challenges for violence interruption programs

While violence interruption efforts continue in Milwaukee, funding cuts, particularly at the federal level, threaten the future of violence prevention programming. 

According to a report by the Council on Criminal Justice, the Trump administration has cut federal funding for community safety and violence intervention programming by more than $168 million. 

“This work is under attack,” said David Muhammad, deputy director of the Department of Health and Human Services for Milwaukee County, during a pop-up event. “We have to fight for the resources we have.” 

In addition to 414LIFE and other local community violence intervention programs, a key to help maintain the reduction of violence that Milwaukee has experienced over the past two years is residents, Moore said.  

“Peace starts with the people, and we must ensure that firearms are securely stored and not accessible to individuals prohibited from having them,” he said. 

414LIFE: Milwaukee street intervention team seeks to disrupt gun violence is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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It’s the kind of exchange that criminal justice data is meant to clarify: a police official insisting that law enforcement practices are fair and targeted, while a city commissioner questions whether those practices contribute to racial disparities. 

“If I’m understanding what you’re saying correctly, it’s the police department position – not that you are policing in a racially motivated way, but just that it’s Black youth that are committing more crimes,” asked Krissie Fung, a commissioner on the Milwaukee Fire and Police Commission during a recent meeting. 

“I would not say Black youth are committing more crimes,” responded Heather Hough, chief of staff for the Milwaukee Police Department. “I would say that when we are arresting suspects, we are ensuring reasonable suspicion or probable cause, whether or not the identity of those youth is one race or another.”

This conversation – about the overrepresentation of youths of color in Milwaukee’s criminal justice system – unfolded during the May 1 meeting of the Fire and Police Commission. However, it relied in part on a misunderstanding of the county-run dashboard that tracks youths in the justice system.

Such misinterpretations have been common, said Kelly Pethke, administrator for Milwaukee County Children, Youth and Family Services, which hosts the dashboard. 

“There’s been a lot of misunderstanding,” Pethke said. “We are in the process of making some changes.”

The point of the dashboard 

The dashboard was designed to provide real-time transparency about Milwaukee County youths in secure custody.

“We didn’t have a good, single place to go to really look at the scope of the child incarceration problem,” said Rep. Ryan Clancy, D-Milwaukee, who helped move the dashboard through the Milwaukee County Board of Supervisors when he served as a supervisor.  

But the dashboard doesn’t yet offer a complete picture, including when it comes to race.

Because of this limitation, conversations about racial disparities in Milwaukee’s youth justice system – like those during the Fire and Police Commission meeting – are incomplete. 

What’s missing?

To understand what’s missing from the dashboard, it helps to know that Milwaukee youths in secure custody can fall into three categories. 

Some youths are held at the county-run Vel R. Phillips Youth and Family Justice Center for lesser offenses, remaining fully under Milwaukee County’s responsibility. 

Others, deemed serious juvenile offenders, are in the custody of the state and housed at state-run youth prisons such as Lincoln Hills School for Boys and Copper Lake School for Girls. 

A third group consists of youth who are the county’s responsibility but are housed in state-run facilities. The dashboard currently only shows racial data for this third group.

Pethke provided NNS with point-in-time data that helps fill out the racial picture of youths in county custody. As of May 19, there were 113 youths in the county detention center: 92 were Black, 12 were Hispanic, seven were white, and two were Asian. 

Persistent problem

Even with the updated county data, overrepresentation of youths of color – especially Black youth – in the criminal justice system continues, said Monique Liston.

She’s the founder and chief strategist of UBUNTU Research and Evaluation, a Milwaukee-based strategic education organization. 

“The disproportionality is still the same for me. Still the same flag,” she said.

Liston wrote a blog that generated a wide community response and was cited by Fung during her exchange with Hough.  

Liston doesn’t dispute Hough’s claim that Milwaukee police are acting legally and fairly. Still, she argued, the city’s criminal justice system is structured in such a way that disproportionately targets Black youths. 

“Black youth are more surveilled. That means you’re going to end up with more incidents.”

It’s a cycle, Liston said – data collected on these incidents presents an imbalanced picture of who is committing crime. 

That picture reinforces the notion that more money and policing are needed to address crime by Black youths, resulting in continued – or escalated – monitoring, she said. 

Yes, Liston wants to see clearer and more complete data from the dashboard. But she also wants that data to be used for real accountability and change.

“Whatever we measure becomes a priority,” she said. “The cycle is not disrupted if we don’t think about the data.” 

MPD and root causes

Hough does not dispute the county’s data and acknowledges that racial disparities exist in Milwaukee’s criminal justice system. But she told NNS she is confident the city’s police department is not the source of those disparities.

“We get a call for service, and we respond,” she said. 

Hough emphasized that the department holds officers accountable if they fail to meet standards of reasonable suspicion and probable cause. 

She also said that the police department – and Milwaukee Police Chief Jeffrey Norman – are committed to working with the community to address the root causes of the disparities highlighted by the county’s dashboard. 

Milwaukee County looks to tweak youth incarceration dashboard after community feedback is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.