How the murder of AJ Freund continues to spark change one year later
Maybe it was his sweet smile or his affable demeanor, evident in the photos that began circulating a year ago.
Perhaps it was what prosecutors called the “sick charade” of a faux disappearance, followed by the gut-wrenching discovery of the boy's body buried in a shallow grave.
Likely it was a combination of factors that resonated with anyone following the case of 5-year-old AJ Freund, who authorities say was beaten to death by his parents on April 15, 2019. The story of the Crystal Lake boy's short and chaotic life sparked a wave of activism and demands for justice aimed at the boy's killers and at the child welfare agency that advocates say let him down.
One year later, the community's emotional investment remains strong in McHenry County, State's Attorney Patrick Kenneally said. As leaders work to improve the handling of local child abuse and neglect cases, he said, that widespread awareness has made all the difference.
“People here have an instinctive, bone-marrow deep, real stake in the welfare of kids in this community,” Kenneally said. “There was just an outpouring not only of despair and grief, but also of resolve to make sure something like this never happened again.”
Making progress
The progress made over the last 12 months has been undeniable, Kenneally said.
At the time of AJ's death, the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services was “woefully understaffed” in McHenry County, Kenneally said. The local office had two supervisors, each overseeing five staff members, and their collaboration with county prosecutors and investigators was inadequate, he said.
In an Oct. 22, 2019, letter, Kenneally urged lawmakers to turn child protection over to communities rather than the state. He said problems with the local DCFS office had only gotten worse in the months since AJ's death and pointed to examples of the agency's failure to address missteps by staff.
“The root of the problems ... remain the same — a lack of accountability for inadequate performance,” his letter said.
The agency's conduct has improved considerably since then, Kenneally said. DCFS created a supervisor position to lead an additional local team of investigators, resulting in “a lot more referrals” to the state's attorney's office.
Kenneally has put an experienced prosecutor in charge of child abuse and neglect cases. He said the amplified workload is a good sign.
“These are cases that should've been referred before and weren't,” Kenneally said.
The result is a lot more hearings to determine whether children should be removed from their homes.
Efforts to increase DCFS staffing and training have been implemented statewide since Gov. J.B. Pritzker vowed last year to overhaul the embattled agency.
The governor in February proposed a $147 million increase in funding for DCFS in the fiscal year that begins July 1, a portion of which would go toward increasing staff to 3,056 employees — up from 2,758 in 2018. The goal is to reduce the caseload for investigators and devote more resources toward the child abuse and neglect hotline.
DCFS did not respond to repeated requests for comment.
Pritzker's announcement came after the release in January of an inspector general's report that revealed 123 children died in a year, despite having been in contact with DCFS in the preceding 12 months.
Of those reported deaths, 24 were homicides. AJ Freund was among them.
AJ's death
Acting DCFS Inspector General Meryl Paniak was disheartened to see recurring lapses in the state's ability to protect children in broken families, she said in her report. AJ's death in particular was “emblematic of DCFS's failure to look beyond the current crisis to consider the entire history of the family.”
AJ's contact with the agency began when he was born Oct. 14, 2013, with opiates in his system, DCFS records show. He was removed from the custody of his parents, JoAnn Cunningham and Andrew Freund Sr., and placed in the care of a cousin for 18 months before being returned to his parents in 2015. The case was closed less than a year later.
The agency's interaction with the Freund family continued throughout AJ's life, with allegations of abuse and neglect deemed “unfounded” just months before his father reported him missing April 18, 2019 — days after the child was killed.
The report of AJ's disappearance ignited a firestorm of search parties, police probes and national media attention. Six days later, during questioning by the FBI, Freund Sr. admitted his son was dead and led investigators to a field near Woodstock where the boy was buried.
Police believe AJ died after being forced into a cold shower and struck in the head as punishment for lying about soiled underwear, according to a search warrant.
Cunningham pleaded guilty to murder and is scheduled to be sentenced July 16. Freund Sr., also charged with murder, waived his right to a jury trial.
Their Dole Avenue home, where officials believe AJ was killed, was torn down last month.
Two DCFS employees at the center of AJ's investigation — caseworker Carlos Acosta and supervisor Andrew Polovin — are no longer employed by the state. Both were named in a federal lawsuit filed by the boy's estate claiming they showed “inhumane indifference” to AJ's safety.
Moving forward
Legislation proposed by state Rep. Steve Reick aims to address the shortcomings exemplified in the agency's handling of AJ's case.
The bill, known as “AJ's Law,” would replace DCFS in McHenry County with a new local child welfare agency on a trial basis. The county-run entity would have the same duties as DCFS, Reick said, but would seek to provide more effective services.
The Woodstock Republican has been involved in a bipartisan working group created last year to examine DCFS.
“Bureaucracies exist to perpetuate their own existence in many cases,” he said. “I think this is one example of that. DCFS is crying out for change.”
Whether his bill will advance out of the committee is unknown, Reick said, noting legislative deadlines have been extended because of the coronavirus pandemic. Pritzker previously expressed skepticism over whether such an initiative would work.
Kenneally said he fundamentally supports the concept and believes the county already has the tools needed to implement it.
A locally run agency would have better access to a family's historical information and greater knowledge of the community it serves, he said. And it would be easier to hold its leaders accountable.
“A child victim is the perfect victim. What I mean by that is, they're often isolated, they often don't have the wherewithal, the maturity, to protect themselves or reach out for help,” he said. “As a result of that, child abuse is usually not a one-off; rather it is ongoing, and it can increase in severity.
“Having a historical context ... is incredibly important in making decisions as to whether or not there is a child who is in danger.”
Kenneally said he'd also like to place the McHenry County Child Advocacy Center under the state's attorney's office, as is done in other collar counties. Those discussions have begun, he said.
Difference-maker
Family members who took care of AJ early on say they were cut out of his life more than a year before his death. But loved ones remembered the outgoing boy as a “virtual ray of sunshine” who left a mark on those who knew him.
They hoped AJ would also make a difference in his death — that his story would ignite change and “bring more awareness to all of us.”
Kenneally says it's done just that.
Not only are structural, systemic reforms at work, but community members stepped up to help kids in need, Kenneally said. They're holding protests and stuffing backpacks, and the number of families willing to take in foster children has increased.
“There just seems to be people in McHenry County who are taking this incredibly seriously and doing some wonderful work,” Kenneally said.
“What I've seen not only in terms of awareness, but also action has been certainly a silver lining in what is ultimately a bleak affair.”
• Daily Herald staff writers Mick Zawislak and Jake Griffin contributed to this report.