'I'd Give My Life To Get AJ Back': Cunningham

CRYSTAL LAKE, IL —Fifteen months ago, a 5-year-old Crystal Lake boy was brutally beaten to death inside his home after lying about soiled underwear, investigators handling the AJ Freund case have said. On Friday, those who have grieved AJ's loss may get some answers.

JoAnn Cunningham's sentencing hearing got underway Thursday morning at the McHenry County Courthouse in Woodstock, with closing arguments wrapping up late in the afternoon.

Cunningham appeared in the courtroom in an orange jumpsuit, her hair tied back in two French braids. She had tissues in her shirt pocket and wore a gold cross ring on her left ring finger, becoming emotional at various points during the hearing.

Parents' Texts Suggest Attempt To Cover Up AJ's Killing

She faces 20 to 60 years in prison after entering a blind guilty plea in December to a first-degree murder charge in connection with the death of her son. Prosecutors said AJ was killed during the overnight hours of April 14, 2019, and first reported missing by Andrew Freund, his father, three days later. Freund is also charged with murder in the case and is behind bars at the McHenry County Jail as he awaits further court hearings.

The hearing will resume at 1:30 p.m. on Friday before McHenry County Judge Robert Wilbrandt, who is expected to determine the 37-year-old woman's fate.

After a full day of testimony on Thursday from doctors, police officers and psychologists, Cunningham delivered a tearful address to the court, talking about her love for her children and how much she missed them. As she fought back tears, she shared memories of 5-year-old AJ Freund.

AJ, Cunningham said, was handsome, funny and loving. He wanted to be a garbage man or a doctor or a gas station attendant or a local doughnut shop owner when he grew up. He also, like his father, wanted to be a lawyer.

"AJ carried a briefcase around every day because he wanted to be a lawyer," Cunningham said. "He was convinced, along with all of us, that he could do anything."

Cunningham did not admit to killing her son, but spoke of her weaknesses and failures in life.

"My heart and mind are consumed with sadness and grief and great remorse. There is a great sorrow in my heart. I will never be able to justify anything and nor will I ever want to," Cunningham said.

She talked about how she always felt rejected and spent the majority of her life "on autopilot," using drugs as a Band-Aid to take her pain away.

"I would give my life to get AJ back," she said. "This is something I can never escape from. I can't change the decisions of my past."

"As much as I deserve punishment, I also believe I need help. Please help me," she went on to say during the hearing on Thursday.

Cunningham's cousin also spoke during the proceedings. The woman took AJ in after he was born with opiates in his system and taken away from Cuningham and Freund.

"He learned from us what a loving touch was and what tenderness was and that we appreciated him as a human being. And we can only hope that was with him somewhere when he was being hurt and dying," she said.

Pushing for the maximum sentence, the state prosecutor claimed Cunningham chose drugs over being a good mom and her son. AJ, who she locked away in his room for hours, suffered relentless psychological and physical abuse and "lived his life in the shadow of her darkness," Kenneally said.

"Nothing is ever her fault," Kenneally said during closing arguments. "She hasn't been sitting here crying for AJ. She has been sitting here crying for herself."

He referred to the way Cunningham treated AJ as a "long and painful betrayal."

"It's evil. And trying to understand evil, showing tolerance in the face of this type of evil, only begets more evil," he said. "If ever there was a case that determined the most forceful response, it is this case."

The defense wrapped up its case late on Thursday afternoon, calling psychologist Robert Meyer as its main witness. Meyer, who conducted three one-hour sessions with Cunningham, said Cunningham was abused as a child, and became pregnant during her freshman year of high school. A series of bad relationships, all involving domestic violence, and the death of her brother to suicide when she was a teen, eventually led Cunningham to drugs to "help her cope with all this inner turmoil in her head."

A mix of opioids, including heroin, Xanax and Adderall, were among the drugs she abused in the months leading up to AJs death, Meyer said. According to the psychologist, Cunnigham suffered from major depressive disorder, anxiety and other mood disorders and also exhibited signs of antisocial, narcissistic and borderline personality disorders.

The Adderall, in particular, propelled the abuse directed at AJ, he said. Meyer claims Cunningham "never fully attached to" AJ after he was taken from her at birth, and he became the scapegoat at home.

"It's like the rocket fuel that lit the underlying rage," Meyer said, talking about Cunningham’s Adderall addiction. "She had no brakes. She just had emotional action."

But Kenneally challenged many of the defense's claims regarding Cunningham's past, in particular the claims that she was abused as a child. The prosecutor also pointed out that she was actually arrested in 2013 for domestic battery, was accused of abuse during her 2012 divorce proceedings and began abusing drugs far earlier than she claimed.

Among the more disturbing exhibits shared during the hearing Thursday morning was a video of a lengthy conversation between Cunningham and AJ on March 4, 2019, which investigators were able to retrieve from Cunningham's iCloud. AJ can be heard crying throughout the video as Cunningham berates him. Media was allowed to listen to the audio but not allowed to see the video.

Cunningham: "Who are you going to go to try and get me in trouble?"

AJ: "I'm going to go to nobody."

Cunningham continued to berate AJ, asking him if he wanted to see her and his younger brother again. He replied that he doesn't want to see her but he does want to see his brother. And then he says: "I just don't want anybody around me ... I want to be alone."

A handful of officers and investigators with the Crystal Lake Police took the stand on Thursday, including Police Chief James Black. Black said the Crystal Lake Police Department spent more than $48,000 to pay for 1,032 hours of investigative work by its officers and detectives. That included 230 hours of overtime work, which alone cost the Crystal Lake Police Department $15,600.

"We were working pretty continuously around the clock," Black said. "The detectives had minimal sleep, and then we were back at it again."

A typical investigation requires about 40 hours of police work, he said, and eight to 10 hours overtime.

Brian Burr, a 23-year veteran of the Crystal Lake Police Department, was among the officers who responded to the Dole Avenue home the day AJ was reported missing. He took the stand on Thursday, sharing his reaction upon first entering the home on April 18, 2019.

"I had sensory overload. The kitchen was the main point. The subfloor was exposed, there was no room on the counters … basically it was just filth," Burr said. "It was just so much to take in at once."

Kenneally shared photos that could be viewed by Burr and Wilbrandt, but not the media or the rest of the courtroom. They showed scenes from the Dole Avenue home on the day AJ was reported missing.

Burr noted that syringes were found scattered throughout the property. He also spoke about a padlock on AJ's room, which he suggested was meant to lock someone inside.

Burr said he walked outside and saw Cunningham having a "conversation with her girlfriend, and she was laughing."

"I remember that especially, it was so vivid," he said.

Prior to Thursday's hearing, a group of about 20 area residents gathered outside the McHenry County Courthouse in Woodstock, holding signs in support of the maximum sentence for Cunningham. Allison Larsen, who lived next door to the Dole Avenue home, held a sign that read,
"Joann Cunningham, 60 years. The max."

"We all think anything less than 60 is too small of a sentence for what she did," Larsen said. "But 60 should do the trick, she would never be out of prison ... she won't see the light of day again."

AJ's short life was marred with abuse and instability, authorities have said. After being born with opiates and benzodiazepines in his system and placed in foster care with a relative for the first 18 months of his life, he was returned to his parents after the Department of Children and Family Services made 26 visits to his Dole Avenue home and reported no signs of abuse or neglect, according to reports.

The family went almost two years without any contact with DCFS, until calls started coming in again in March 2018 regarding "odd bruising" on AJ's face and dog feces on the floor at the home. In December 2018, AJ made the comment to a doctor examining him about "mommy not wanting to hurt me."

He ended up in the emergency room that day after Cunningham was arrested on a driving while license suspended charge, and authorities noticed a large bruise on AJ and the home in disrepair, according to police reports.

About four months later, his father would place a 911 call.

"We have a missing child. We woke up this morning and he wasn't there," Freund told the dispatcher on the morning of April 18, 2019. He and AJ's mother, 36-year-old Cunningham, told authorities that they last saw AJ at 9:30 p.m. on April 17 when the boy went to bed.

From there, AJ became a household name as the story of the missing boy made headlines across the country. And the search began.

While local authorities headed the widespread and exhaustive search efforts, area residents could also be seen in Crystal Lake walking their neighborhoods, peeking in window wells and neighbors' backyards, carefully scoping out their playhouses and playgrounds, and hoping AJ would be found and returned home.

During his closing arguments, Kenneally referred to Cunningham's move to enlist the community to help find her dead son as a "sick charade."

"We're decent people in McHenry County," the prosecutor said. "I would describe the mood in the community as one of despair, and I think it still lingers today."

A week after AJ was reported missing, Andrew Freund was brought into the Crystal Lake Police Department for questioning, according to court documents. During that interview, Freund told police that AJ was killed at some point over night on April 14 — three days before he was reported missing.

Freund told authorities that on the evening of April 14, AJ was placed in a cold shower for 20 minutes as punishment over lying about soiled underwear, according to court documents. During that time, Cunningham took the spray nozzle of the showerhead and placed it "right in his face," which led to AJ sometimes losing his balance and falling in the tub.

"I don't remember it being as bad as other nights where it was, ya know, just pure physical punishment, hitting," Freund, a former lawyer, told police. Freund said he had spanked AJ in the past but denied engaging in any other forms of physical abuse, according to the report. After he was beaten, he was put to bed, according to authorities.

In his April 24, 2019, interview with police, Freund told police that Cunningham came to him at about 3 a.m. on April 15 after she found AJ was not breathing. They searched the internet on his phone for "child CPR." That internet search is what heplped Crystal Lake police crack the case and ultimately led to Freund's confession, prosecutors said.

Freund told Cunningham "he would handle it," according to the court documents. He put AJ's body in a large plastic tote, which he drove out to a rural area outside Woodstock two days later and buried in a shallow grave.

After his confession, Freund led authorities to AJ's body, police said. During an autopsy, forensic pathologist Mark Witek found patterned and circular bruises on AJ's forehead that could have come from the detachable shower head, according to court documents.

Witek took the stand Thursday, stating that at least a dozen blows to the boy's head led to his death.

"A lot of these injuries are overlapping," he said. When Kenneally asked if the blows could amount to dozens of injuries, Witek responded, "it could be dozens."

Multiple more bruises and abrasions were found on AJ's knees, legs, thighs, and across his body. All of the injuries, Witek said, likely happened around the same time.

AJ, who would've started kindergarten this past year in Crystal Lake, was mourned by those close to him as well as by many more strangers during a public visitation at Davenport Funeral Home in Crystal Lake on May 3, 2019. A line of mourners waited their turn outside to pay their respects to the boy. Inside the funeral home, floral arrangements were sent from families throughout the country. The Chicago Cubs even sent a large arrangement for AJ.

Balloons, Paw Patrol figurines and an oversized stuffed bear were on display throughout Davenport Funeral Home. Comfort dogs were on hand, and an honor guard stood next to AJ's small wooden casket.

"Based on the names entered in the guest book for AJ on Friday, we estimated close to 5,000 people (came to AJ's visitation)," Jennifer Valentine of Davenport Funeral Home said in a statement in the days following the visitation. "In such a heartbreaking situation, it was heartwarming to see the outpour of support from the community and neighboring communities."

Related:

• Thousands Say Goodbye to AJ at Public Visitation
• 'AJ Belonged To All Of Us': Answers Sought After Boy's Death

During Cunningham's sentencing hearing, Kenneally said he would seek the maximum sentence of 60 years, and the prosecutor presented victim impact statements and other evidence in support of the maximum punishment. On Tuesday, Judge Wilbrandt ruled several graphic images and videos, including autopsy photos, would be allowed as part of the media coverage of Thursday's hearing, according to the Northwest Herald.

Angelo Mourelatos, a public defender representing Cunningham, was given the OK Tuesday to submit substance abuse and other reports into evidence, the Northwest Herald reported.

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Both the defense and state's attorney's office were allowed to call witnesses during the sentencing hearing, and AJ's family were granted time to speak prior to a sentence being issued.

Wilbrandt could issue a sentence Friday or take the matter under advisement, which typically means the judge will set a new sentencing date to allow for more time to review the case, according to the newspaper.

Whatever her prison sentence ends up being, Cunningham must serve all of it and is not eligible for parole.

Andrew Freund, who also remains behind bars at the McHenry County Jail, is next expected in court on July 30, when his trial date could be set, according to online court records. Freund has pleaded not guilty to murder, aggravated battery and concealment of a death charges.

• Read Indictment for JoAnn Cunningham, Andrew Freund

The problems at 94 Dole Ave. started years before AJ was born. His older brother, who is now 18 years old, lived in squalor and witnessed violent acts between Andrew Freund Sr. and JoAnn Cunningham, according to court records. In 2012, Cunningham's mother filed for custody of AJ's older brother after JoAnn dropped him off with her in August 2012. Andrew Freund Sr. and JoAnn Cunningham reportedly met around that same time. Freund, a lawyer, represented Cunningham during her divorce and soon after, Cunningham moved into his home on Dole Avenue in Crystal Lake.

Related:

• Court Records Show History Of Neglect, Drugs For Freund's Parents
• Police Reports Provide Glimpse Into Missing Boy's Home Life

Around the same time of the new DCFS reports, AJ's extended family says Cunningham cut off contact with them. In a May statement provided to Patch, AJ's family said Freund and Cunningham "prevented" them from having any further contact with AJ.

"(We) want everyone to know that AJ was loved by us with all our hearts," the statement said. AJ was a "smart little boy" who loved having books read to him, doing puzzles, Thomas the Train, and playing with his fire trucks. Like other young boys, he also enjoyed bulldozers, cement mixers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. "He was very curious and always wanted to learn about everything," according to his family.

"He was, and will always be, our loving and caring little boy," AJ's family said. "His life shall not be in vain. AJ will always be our little superhero."

AJ's death prompted many officials to call on DCFS to enact new policies.

In her annual report to Gov. J.B. Pritzker, acting Illinois Department of Children and Family Services Inspector General Meryl Paniak wrote that AJ Freund's case showed DCFS needed to provide more support for families and to "act decisively" to help children in families that "are broken," the Daily Herald reported.

She added that in the case, as well as in prior child deaths, DCFS ignored the family's overall history, and, in particular in AJ's case, overlooked his "parents' long history of addiction, the mother's recent relapse, and the parents' isolation of the children from caring relatives and day care providers."

Paniak also wrote in her annual report that AJ's death was comparable to the 1993 murder of 3-year-old Joseph Wallace, which lead to the creation of the DCFS inspector general's office, according to the Daily Herald.

In 2019, the inspector general's office investigated 123 child deaths, including 24 murders.

Inspector general investigations are required if the child who died had DCFS contact in the past 12 months, officials said.

Paniak's report, which was released earlier this year, calls for several changes, including better communication between caseworkers and supervisors involving intact family services cases, such as AJ's case. It also calls on the state to make sure caseworkers and supervisors aren't overload with cases.

In February, Rep. Tom Weber, R-Lake Villa, filed the AJ Freund Act — House Bill 5281. Under the act, any report received by the Department of Children and Family Services alleging the abuse or neglect of a child would be reported immediately to the appropriate local law enforcement agency. And once a report is filed, the law enforcement agency may, at its discretion, conduct a criminal investigation or other action based on the information contained within the report.

Weber noted during a February press conference announcing the bill that AJ was one of 123 children "who were failed by DCFS in 2019." That is the number of children who'd had contact with the department and later died.

"It makes me sick to my stomach to think about and I'm not alone in that feeling. We must change the course of a broken DCFS and that's why I've filed the AJ Freund Act to give local law enforcement the ability to investigate any allegation of child abuse or neglect," he said. "If local law enforcement had this investigative ability in December of 2018, when AJ told the ER doctor that his bruises might have been caused by his mother, he may still be alive today."

In addition, House Bill 4886, which would create a McHenry County-run DCFS, was introduced by members of the House Republican caucus and filed by Rep. Steven Reick, R-Woodstock.

Referred to as AJ's Law, the pilot program would establish a county children and family services agency in McHenry County, which would replace the operations of the state agency within the county for a 5-year period.

• Rep. Weber files AJ Freund Act to Reform DCFS