Some of Wisconsin’s most shocking crimes have never been solved. Read on to learn about some of the state’s longest-standing unsolved murders.
Everyone loves a mystery, right? Well, a mystery story, anyway. But unlike in the “Knives Out” films and other fun murder-mystery properties, in real life, mystery often goes hand in hand with tragedy. When a murder remains unsolved, the victim’s family may struggle to find closure, and worse yet, the murderer is never brought to justice.
Over its lengthy history, Wisconsin has seen its share of unsolved murders. Many of them were located in the far reaches of the state’s past, when forensic science was less advanced, and it wasn’t possible to solve a crime based on fingerprint analysis, DNA evidence, or other tools modern-day law enforcement relies upon.
So, what happened in these historic cases, and why did they lead to cold trails and lingering questions? Let’s have a look at some of the historic unsolved murders in Wisconsin’s history. But first, a quick reminder: If you have any information you think might help solve a cold case, no matter how old, please contact the relevant authorities. In Wisconsin, that is typically the Wisconsin Department of Justice or the sheriff’s office for the relevant county where the case is being investigated.
With that in mind, here are some of Wisconsin’s haunting unsolved murders and mysterious disappearances.
The 17th-century cold case of Father Rene Menard
One of the most perplexing cold cases in Wisconsin history took place before Wisconsin was a state, or the United States was even a nation. In the year 1661, French Jesuit missionary Father Rene Menard was traveling on a ministry visit to a Huron community in North Central Wisconsin, which had reportedly been suffering from starvation following a war with the Iroquois. Menard and a fur trapper serving as his guide were in what is now Taylor County when they became separated, and Father Menard was never officially seen or heard from again. His belongings were never found, and it remains a mystery as to what happened to him.
For hundreds of years, historians, public officials, members of the Catholic Church, and others have tried to find answers about what happened to Father Menard. Given the hardships of the journey he was undertaking, it’s possible he died of natural causes. It’s also possible he was killed by Native Americans, who were often displeased by his attempts to convert them, or even by his fur trapper guide, for whom there is a limited contemporary record. Today, there is a monument to Father Menard in Merrill, Wisconsin, and he’s described in Catholic literature as “Wisconsin’s First Priest.”
Who murdered H. C. Mead?
Wisconsin in the 19th century could be a dangerous place, as anyone who’s ever read the cult classic “Wisconsin Death Trip” knows. But some crimes still had the power to shock, and the 1882 murder of banker H. C. Mead was, and remains, one of them. Henry Mead was a hardworking, slightly eccentric man who ran the Exchange Bank of Waupaca and lived in a nearby boarding house. In October of 1882, he failed to return to the boarding house and was discovered in the bank, having been shot through the head, with bloody handprints marking the walls.
A months-long investigation turned up several false leads, including misleading testimony from a woman who turned out to be married to a suspect. In 1892, three men, including a Waupaca saloon owner, were arrested and tried for the murder, but the evidence of their guilt was flimsy and circumstantial, and the men were acquitted. The hand that made the bloody handprints was never identified, and the case remains unsolved to this day.
The mining-town murder of Lottie Morgan
In 1890, in the iron-mining town of Hurley, everyone knew life could be tough. Everyone also knew Lottie Morgan, sometimes known as Lotta. Lottie was a popular local stage and musical hall actress, as well as a sex worker with a wide range of lovers. She was generally popular in town, both for her good looks and her outgoing, friendly personality. She was living with a local politician, Johnny Sullivan, but the pair weren’t married or monogamous.
The town of Hurley and the surrounding communities of Ironwood and Bessemer were all shocked and horrified when, in April 1890, Lottie was found brutally murdered with an axe. Police were able to determine that the crime was neither a robbery nor an assault that had turned deadly, but in spite of a grand jury investigation, no suspect was ever apprehended.
At the time, and to this day, police and the public suspected that Lottie’s murder may have been organized by criminals. Before she was killed, she had been subpoenaed to testify regarding a local robbery, where tens of thousands of dollars had been stolen from a Hurley bank. While the men who were eventually convicted of the robbery were strongly suspected of murdering Lottie, there was insufficient evidence, and no one was ever charged.
Patrick and Paul Gorman and the Crawford County shootout
When Patrick Gorman and his son Paul were murdered in a shootout in 1930, it seemed unlikely that the case would stay cold for long. After all, there had been multiple witnesses who were wounded in the same shootout in question, where three men and a woman disguised as a hunting party attempted to rob a farm outside of Mount Zion.
The farm, which belonged to the Gormans’ relatives, the Horrigans, was reputed to be the site of a large stash of money, which may have been why it was targeted. Wisconsin police eventually tracked a suspect down in Chicago, and members of the Horrigan family who had been injured in the shootout were brought in to identify him. However, they were unable to recognize him, and with no further suspects, the case remains unsolved.
Max Adonnis and a triple-homicide mafia cold case
Throughout the 1970s and 80s, Max Adonnis (born Maximillion Ludwig Gajewski Jr.) cut a distinctive figure in Milwaukee. A burly, gregarious man—formerly a competitive swimmer until a bread-machine accident required the amputation of an arm—he was someone who it was hard to forget.
That became even more true when he became involved with Milwaukee’s organized crime, working officially as a restaurant host at Giovanni’s restaurant in Milwaukee and unofficially as a minor associate of the Balistrieri crime family. That’s why, when Max was found shot to death outside of Giovanni’s in 1989, police immediately suspected gangland involvement.
There was just one issue: no one was talking. While police searched for Max’s killer, speculation grew about the motive. Rumors started that he had been killed by rival gangsters from Chicago, or possibly by Milwaukee criminals who were concerned with Max’s habit of bragging about his mafia connections, or objected to his skimming money from the mob, or informing on them to the police.
Two years after the killing, in 1991, the mystery deepened further when the bodies of two men matching the description of the men who had shot Max were found under a Milwaukee building, having been killed years earlier. Were these hitmen who had killed Max? If so, who hired them, and who killed them? The case remains open.
