When fingering a scar helps define, strengthen our resilience

Sometimes, it is worthwhile to look back on a sensational story as a means of reminding us where we’ve been. Of taking stock of events that bruised our consciousness and reminding us that we were strong enough to overcome them. A shocking murder, for instance. A historic flood. A damaging tornado.

Other times, such stories are not a testament so much to our strength as to our resilience. A chance to see what we have learned as a community as the result of some tragic ordeal. A chance to go beyond fingering an emotional scar, and to see how we have dealt with the pain pulsing beneath it.

The two-part retrospective we published last Sunday and Monday on the Joe Gliniewicz case represented that kind of experience.

If they were to achieve nationwide notoriety, the people of Fox Lake would surely have preferred that it be for something other than a beloved local police officer’s suicide disguised as heroism to distract attention from financial misdeeds. As staff writers Mick Zawislak and Steve Zalusky showed, the trauma of the experience and its unusual plunge from sympathetic remorse to bitter resentment led to a diverse pool of reactions and lessons.

For Gliniewicz’ widow Melodie, even after 10 years “every day is a struggle.” She told Zalusky in an email that she eventually took a plea deal related to the financial allegations involving her and her husband because, “(After) 7+ years of my life consumed in a courtroom, 10 years of dealing with a false narrative, 10 years of death threats, I was beyond exhausted. This isn't living. It’s surviving, at best.”

For several men who were briefly suspected in Gliniewicz’ death, there are memories of harsh handling by police and lawsuits seeking redress for their treatment.

For authorities involved in the case, it brought life- and career-changing lessons.

“It’s completely changed the trajectory of my career and career path. I learned a ton from that incident, and I take a lot with me every day when I communicate,” said Lake County Sheriff’s spokesman and now Deputy Chief Chris Covelli.

His overriding lesson in dealing with the public in a crisis: “Tell people ... everything we know and be honest. You can’t go wrong doing that.”

Ray Rose, whose varied suburban police career includes key roles in such events as the Columbo family murders of the 1970s and the 1979 crash of American Airlines Flight 191, was a Lake County undersheriff during the Gliniewicz investigation and recalled how “this octopus kept growing legs.”

Mike Nerheim, now a Lake County circuit judge, was county prosecutor on the Gliniewicz case. For him, “the most unusual case I’ve been involved in” now offers a specific lesson for law enforcement “to make sure you’re keeping your eyes open to all evidence” and be prepared for outcomes that may not be what they first appear to be.

It was probably Fox Lake Village President Donny Schmit who outlined the most profound and lasting impact of the case. “Adversity doesn’t build character; it reveals character. We showed an entire nation what our community was made of,” he said.

But, crisis communication consultant David Bayless, who served as Fox Lake spokesman for much of the period, found that the many tentacles of the Gliniewicz story combined to give it power. He praised Schmit’s efforts and described Village Administrator Anne Marrin as a “tough, fearless, unrelenting, and credible” leader who “only wanted the truth.”

“This story has been compelling because it represents the best and worst of public service,” he said.

That is true enough. And the story is enduring because it reminds us, wherever we call home, of the many ways a public trauma wounds a community, and the many ways in which, as a result, a community’s spirit grows.

• Jim Slusher, jslusher@dailyherald.com, is managing editor for opinion at the Daily Herald. Follow him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jim.slusher1 and on X at @JimSlusher. His book “To Nudge The World: Conversations, community and the role of the local newspaper” is available at eckhartzpress.com.