Two ex-DCFS workers go on trial for child endangerment in murder of 5-year-old AJ Freund in Crystal Lake

When 5-year-old AJ Freund was beaten to death in 2019, outrage focused on his parents, who were convicted and sentenced to prison. Attention then shifted to the handling of the tragedy by child welfare workers, who previously investigated but returned AJ to his abusive mother.

On Monday, a rare trial commenced involving criminal charges against two former workers for the state Department of Children and Family Services, with prosecutors accusing them of mishandling the case so egregiously that it helped lead to AJ’s death.

Former child welfare investigator Carlos Acosta, who is also a former McHenry County board member, and his supervisor, Andrew Polovin, each face charges of endangering the life of a child and reckless conduct.

McHenry County State’s Attorney Patrick Kenneally argued that the two were “lazy and heartless,” saying they were, “two criminals who didn’t give a damn.”

AJ, a friendly and talkative boy with blond hair and piercing blue eyes, was “abandoned into the hands of his killer,” Kenneally told the judge.

Defense attorneys countered that the charges amounted to “Monday morning quarterbacking,” blaming a tragedy on people who acted properly with the limited information they had at the time.

The trial is unusual because child welfare workers, like police, have some immunity from prosecution. But if they acted recklessly or “in a willful and wanton manner,” as charged, they could go to prison.

AJ, who was beaten by his mother, JoAnn Cunningham, died April 15, 2019, and was buried by his father, Andrew Freund Sr., in a shallow grave in a field in Woodstock. Cunningham was sentenced to 35 years in prison for his murder, while Freund Sr. is serving a 30-year sentence for involuntary manslaughter, aggravated battery of a child and concealment of a homicidal death.

The two DCFS workers are accused of failing to protect the boy after police reported possible abuse.

On Dec. 18, 2018, almost four months before his death, Cunningham called police to report her boyfriend had stolen her Adderall and Suboxone medications and her cellphone.

Cunningham had lost custody of AJ when he was born with heroin in his body. She got counseling and drug treatment and later regained custody of him.

Crystal Lake Lake police Officer Kimberley Shipbaugh testified that when she responded to the call, AJ and his 3-year-old brother were in their car, dressed only in T-shirts and diapers, though it was cold outside and in their house, which had open and broken windows.

Shipbaugh said the house was “disgusting,” with an “overwhelming” smell of feces and urine that was on the floor, a torn- up floor, and diapers and junk strewn everywhere.

She was startled to see a large, “nasty” red and purple bruise on AJ’s hip, along with marks by his eyes, lips and ankle, The officer fought back tears as she said she made a “terrible mistake” by immediately asking how it happened. Investigators typically prefer to question victims away from their potential abusers. AJ looked at his mother, who told him that the dog did it, to which he nodded and agreed.

The officer arrested Cunningham for driving with a suspended license, took the two boys into protective custody, and alerted Acosta as to what she had seen. But Acosta released the boys to their mother’s custody against Shipbaugh’s objection, on the condition they get examined right away by a doctor.

Under examination by a doctor later that day, AJ gave different stories, saying that maybe someone had hit him with a belt, and “maybe Mommy didn’t mean to hurt me.”

But the doctor wasn’t a forensic specialist and couldn’t determine what caused the bruising. Acosta didn’t request such a specialist, and allowed the boy to return home with his father. About two weeks later, after consulting with Polovin, Acosta deemed the allegation of abuse were unfounded.

In the case being tried by Lake County Judge George Strickland, after McHenry judges recused themselves, Kenneally asserted that the workers repeatedly didn’t follow required guidelines, and their dereliction of duty was criminal.

This was the third abuse allegation involving Cunningham, but there was no record that Acosta gathered that information.

Defense attorney Jamie Wombacher countered that Acosta only did what was authorized by his supervisors. The area supervisor, Carol Ruzicka, who since retired, was paid to be a prosecution witness Monday, though she was “ultimately responsible,” Wombacher said. She said the charges amounted to “20/20 hindsight.”

DCFS does not classify cuts and bruises as “serious harm” cases requiring the most oversight, and police did not formally challenge its decision in the case.

After AJ’s death, Wombacher said, witnesses changed their story to fit prosecutors’ narrative of neglect by DCFS. All this occurred, she said, while the agency was understaffed and overworked.

Illinois law strongly favors keeping children in their home, and requires an immediate and urgent necessity to remove a child. While the case was tragic and incredibly sad, she said, the evidence doesn’t show willful and wanton conduct that placed AJ in circumstances that were the proximate cause of his death.

As for Polovin, defense attorney Matthew McQuaid said, there is no evidence that he had knowledge of AJ’s endangerment, or that he acted recklessly, calling any other conclusion “hindsight and speculation.”

The defendants no longer work for DCFS, and Acosta chose not to run for reelection to the County Board after his term expired at the end of 2022. The trial is expected to take about five days.

rmccoppin@chicagotribune.com