The Case of The Killer Priest

By David Cuomo

This novel is a partially fictionized account of the murder of Dorothy Polulach, a well off widow who was found shot to death in her southside Chicago home in Februrary of 1981. Mrs Polulach was the widow of George Polulach, a wealthy landowner. Dorothy was his second wife. By his first wife, who he divorced about ten years before the murder, he

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Cuomo
• Release date: Jan 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987140673

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The Case of the Killer Priest

Copyright © 2023 by David Cuomo and Michael Duffin. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN:

979-8-9871406-6-6 (paperback)

979-8-9871406-7-3 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

The Criminal Courts Building and the County Jail in Chicago were built in the 1920s by Mayor Anton Cermak and the Cook County Board. The courthouse, a seven story granite edifice adorned with Greco-Roman columns and equipped with thirty two court rooms, stands at the intersection of 26th street and California Blvd. To the west of the courthouse the builders erected a three story jail house, containing cell space to hold five hundred inmates, ten conference rooms where lawyers can speak to their clients in private, and an execution chamber containing a very scary looking electric chair, which seemed like it eagerly awaited its next victim.

Every week day, hundreds of lawyers descend upon the courthouse to attend to their legal business. Many of these lawyers belong to the Cook County Public Defender’s Office. This office existed to provide expert legal defense work to indigent defendants financially unable to afford to pay for their own lawyer. Inside the Public Defender’s Office was another Office, named the Murder Task Force, peopled by elite lawyers who specialized in representing indigent defendants charged with First Degree murder. Due to the sentencing structure spelled out in the Illinois Code of Criminal Law and Procedure, attorneys in the Murder Task Force defended people who, if found guilty of First Degree Murder, were in certain cases eligible to be sentenced to death or natural life imprisonment without parole. The stakes were very high, so the Assistant Public Defenders spent many, many hours, often reaching into the wee hours of the morning, preparing the best possible defenses. All members of the Murder Task Force felt they had an unwanted task, and very often were verbally attacked by the police, by Assistant States Attorneys, and by victims and witnesses. These lawyers, dedicated to the rule of law, had to develop a thick skin.

The protocol for a member of the Murder Task Force was to report to the office at 8:30 in the morning to collect new cases to which they were assigned. The Office strictly enforced the 8-30 am requirement. Any violation would incur some sort of penalty. It was for this reason that John Byrd, a two year veteran of the Murder Task force, was in a hurry this particular warm July day. Though he raced to get to the office in time, he did not make it until 9:15 am. He winced at the thought that he had earned a penalty for his tardiness.

John had an interesting background which would make it appear that the Public Defender’s Office was not a good fit for him. John was born in southern Illinois, attended Southern Illinois University, and Northwestern University School of Law. His father and grandfather had been county Sheriffs, so it was quite a surprise that he elected to defend the accused instead of incarcerating them as his family members did. John was a liberal minded lawyer and as a result he elected to seek employment in the Public Defender’s Office. He suffered in his life because of his short stature. Standing only five feet, three inches tall, he routinely suffered verbal abuse and laughing and snickering behind his back. Because of that, he decided that he wanted to represent people who themselves endured abuse because of their race, physical or mental disability. The Public Defender’s Office became a natural place for him to exercise his feelings about the law.

But even there he soon found out that perhaps, after all, he did not fit .He found out, much to his chagrin and dismay, that the office supported attorneys who made it their legal life to rain abuse on the States Attorneys Office, to fight the fight fairly and unfairly, to attack the States Attorney on a personal level. That was the philosophic thought in the Office. Destroy the State and leave the defense as a secondary objective.

John simply did not adhere to this personalized form of defending his client. Whereas his fellow Assistant Public Defenders made enemies of the prosecutors, John thought that, for the benefit of his clients, that he ought to treat the States Attorneys with respect, even to the point of forming personal relationships with his opponents. That, he felt, would open doors for him and increase his ability to defend his clients successfully. But it left him a loner in his Office.

The Public Defender’s Office was located on the fourth floor of the Administration building at 26th and California.On this particular day, John ran into the office late, and worried when he saw his boss, Phillip Ryan, seated in John’s cubicle, arms folded, with a spanking brand new file folder laying on John’s desk. John figured this was his new case.

Phillip had spent many years in the Public Defenders Office. Though he began his career as an ardent and spirited lawyer, over the course of time he became jaundiced and really no longer cared about the disposition of any case. As a supervisor, his chief authority kept him out of the courtroom and into his office where he exercised his only duty, and that was to assign cases to his junior attorneys. This limited role suited his character. He now spent every morning assigning cases and after that, settled into his office reading the newspaper or phoning friends.

What is the matter with you, Phillip asked, upon seeing John. You know you need to be here on time. We will deal with your tardiness later. I have a very important case I want you to handle. Your new client is a 42 year old white man named Harold Bean."

"What do you know about the case, John asked . He saw the file was several inches thick which might take him a whole day to digest. He wanted Phillip to give him a thumbnail sketch of the case, which John realized was the most help he would ever wring out of Phillip.

I don’t know very much. Phillip replied. I just did a cursory look at the documents from the State’s Attorney’s Office. The State charged him with 1st Degree Murder, Armed Robbery, and Residential Burglary. You have to do a deep dive into the case, but I can tell you that Bean allegedly broke into an elderly woman’s home, handcuffed her, then shot her twice in the back of the head. Quite heinous, no?

I would say so, John said. I imagine this is a death penalty case. Shooting a defenseless old lady execution style is going to earn the death penalty in many cases. I have my work cut out for me. What else can you tell me. John was a bit hesitant about taking on this case. He only had two years in the Murder Task Force and wondered at his ability to take on a death penalty case .But he certainly did not wish to tell Phillip that he was not ready .

According to unofficial courtroom rumor mongering, Bean is a different sort of client. Phillip explained. Over the last two months, he has tried to represent himself. He spoke well to the judge and seems to have some familiarity with legal procedure. But finally. After two months of getting nowhere, he asked the judge to assign him a Public Defender. That’s how we got him.

"Who is the judge, John asked.

You are in luck. The judge is Rita Bulanda. The first woman judge assigned to the Criminal Courts. She has never sentenced anyone to death, though she has presided over some nasty murder cases.

I don’t know her. Have you ever tried a case in her courtroom?

No, but there are a number of our lawyers who have cases in front of her. You can check in with them to get the low down on the judge.

John picked up the file and briefly looked through it.

This is going to be a headache, Phil. I know and understand your point that the Judge has never imposed a death sentence, but there is always a first. I know the State’s Attorney does not ask for capital punishment unless they are convinced beyond any doubt of the defendant’s guilt. I assume that the State has an overwhelming case.

You are probably right. Here is my issue, Phillip said. I want you to bone up on the case as soon as you can. I would like you to see him as soon as possible. Today or tomorrow. The case is already two months old. That means the State has a very long head start and advantage. So get to it immediately.

All right, I will get right to it. Do you know who the States Attorney is. I might give him or her a call before I visit Bean.

‘It is a ‘her." Mary Dolenz. Do you know her?’

Very well. She is an unmerciful hard nosed prosecutor. I probably won’t give her a call. I know already what she will say. Fry him."

Call her anyway. Now I am going to get out of your way. Read the file over and you know what to do. After you visit Bean and get his side of the story, pay me a visit, I want to know everything about the case.

Okay boss, I’ll catch up with you later.

As Phillip left the room, John sat down, put his feet on the desk, lit his first cigarette of the day, and dived into the case file. As he read on and acquired an idea about the case and various defense strategies he might assert, he became nauseous. He could not think of a more horrible thing than to handcuff an elderly woman and then blast her in the back of the head. During his two year stint with the Murder Task Force, he had seen all sorts of heinous cases, where women were raped and choked to death, children drowned and set on fire, restaurants and grocery store owners shot to death during robberies. But he had never seen such an awful case as this one. It was sure going to be a very difficult, emotional matter to try. He secretly wished to find a way to wiggle out of the case. It was going to cause a great of overtime work and anxiety. Cases like this made him question his decision to work in the Public Defender’s Office. But, by the same token, John fervently believed in the mission of his Office, to stand as a barrier against the State and to do all he can to make sure that the accused, no matter how guilty, gets the fairest trial. John was a true believer.

As John flipped through the file, skipping pages he thought unimportant and focusing on the more relevant, his anxiety grew and grew. He lit cigarette after cigarette, trying to calm his nerves. The State had five witnesses against Bean, one of whom was a co-defendant named Robert Byron who the State would probably flip against Bean. Anne Walters, Wayne Walters, Debra Youngbrandt, and Danny Egan were the others. All had evidence against Bean. A brief review of this evidence showed that Anne Walters, the stepdaughter of the deceased, paid Bean 7500 dollars to off the victim. A very disturbing case. In looking over the witness statements, at least at this point, John did not see a factual weakness.

The witnesses against Bean seemed to seal this man's fate. He then turned to examine the statements made by the two investigating detectives, Tom Ptak and Michael Duffin. Their fingerprints were all over the case. They tracked down and interviewed every witness. They arrested Bean who had taken to hiding in the Cook County Forest Preserve. They searched Bean’s stand at the Orland Park Flea Market, where they discovered and retrieved a Civil War musket which had been stolen from the victim’s house. John scanned the testimony of the detectives with great care, hoping to find that they had in some way violated Bean’s constitutional rights. He saw nothing to indicate any such violation, except perhaps the search of Bean’s Flea Market stand, which was warrantless. Perhaps on a motion to suppress he might convince the Judge to exclude the gun. After that, he saw nothing.

John thought that right now would be the best time to meet Bean, while the police reports and witness statements were fresh in his thinking. He reserved a three hour time with the Jail to speak to Bean. He did not have the slightest idea of what Bean would say, except that he was innocent. There was no doubt that he would say he was blameless, after all, he just spent two months of appearing before the judge as his own attorney. But for the life of him, John could not predict or imagine what Bean might relate. He could confess his guilt and try to convince the Judge that he was remorseful and therefore should not receive a death sentence. Or he could insist on his not guilty plea and endure a trial proving nothing but his guilt. John simply did not know.

Before leaving the office, John took out a blank yellow legal pad and jotted down different questions and areas he wanted to cover with Bean. Given the severity of the charges and possible sentence, John felt he needed to be at his best. Of course he could not predict what a judge or jury would do, but he made an educated guess that this trial would not turn out the best for Bean. That being the case, he wanted to cover every single aspect of the evidence, so that he could not be accused of giving Bean a lifeless defense. In thinking things over, he might go as far as requesting one or two co-counsel. Certainly the State will employ two attorneys at least, so he thought the Public Defender’s should match the prosecution man for man.

Finally, John thought he would drop in at the State’s Attorney 11th floor office and talk to Miss Dolenz, who like John liked to keep late hours. Sure enough, when he got off the elevator at the 11th floor, he saw her. She looked like she was leaving for the night, as she had her briefcase and handbag with her. Before she could hop onto the elevator, John approached her.

Mary, John stated. I have been appointed to defend Harold Bean. I was wondering if you had a few minutes.

Sure. Why don’t you follow me? We can go into my office and chit-chat.

With that, John followed Mary past several secretaries and mountains of files, seemingly strewn all over the place in a disorganized fashion. He noted something out of the ordinary. All over the walls he saw neck ties with the name of a States Attorney and the name of another person, seemingly the name of an accused. He bet the ties were celebrations of an Assistant State’s Attorney first jury trial victory.

The two lawyers entered Mary’s office, more a cubicle than a real office. The walls were covered with calenders with a defendant name on every date. He saw press clippings, with pictures of a smiling Mary, obviously happy at her conquest of some poor bastard. To his relief, he saw an ashtray filled with ashes and stubbed out cigarettes.

Do you mind if I smoke, John asked. When the woman nodded her house yes’ John lit up and felt more relaxed.’

So what is up John, Mary asked after settling herself in her chair. Harold Bean?

Yes. I just got assigned to represent him today. I spent the whole day reviewing his file and I have to say the evidence against him is quite overwhelming. I don’t see a crack in the case.

So you are looking for a plea deal. What do you have in mind?

I just got the case today. I haven’t met my client yet, but I thought it would be worth my time to see just where the case stands with you. To be brief, I am looking to avoid the death penalty. I would like to meet my new client and offer him a plea bargain for a prison sentence.

I would like to make an offer just to get rid of the file. I am saddled with loads of cases so ridding myself of any case without a trial makes me happy. However, John. I am in the same boat as you. I just got assigned to Harold Bean today and as of yet I have not read the reports. Besides, you know our Office policy. No plea bargaining in capital cases. So as of now I have no offer to make to you and quite possibly would never have an offer. But I will keep your interest in mind.

John gave the States Attorney his thanks, caught the elevator down to the first floor, and then walked over to Division One of the jail where the State housed Bean. Division One had been built in the 1920s and had not been fixed up since. It had no air conditioning or heat, and inmates were crammed together in small cells, usually four or three to a cell. As the most dangerous offenders stayed in this relic, the security was very thick. Even a lawyer there to interview a defendant was subjected to a full search.

As John entered the building and allowed himself to be searched, he could not help but notice the awful stench in the jail. It smelled of sewage and sweat. John had not been in this part of the jail in two years, so he naturally had forgot its unpleasantness. While the correctional officer performed the mandatory search, another walked up to him. This officer, unlike the others, was a huge well built African-American with a gold badge on his chest. A captain, John thought.

You hear to seen Bean? The Captain asked. Come with me and I will put you in a conference room where you can talk in private. You might have to sit awhile, as some woman is currently visiting your guy. When they are finished, I’ll walk Bean over to you. According to your reservation, you have three hours with him.

The search finished, the