Michael Toomin, a retired Cook County judge who in more than four decades on the bench presided over some of the highest-profile criminal cases heard in Chicago before retiring in December, died Friday at 85.
Mr. Toomin died of an “aggressive cancer,” according to Assistant Cook County Public Defender Bill Murphy, a friend who was at the judge’s side when he died while in hospice care.
“His life was the law,” Murphy said. “If there was a judge’s hall of fame, he would be one of the first people admitted to it.”
The cases Mr. Toomin presided over included the precedent-setting retrial of Harry “The Hook” Aleman, the infamous Chicago Outfit hitman. Charged with killing a union official, Aleman had been acquitted because the judge hearing his case had been bribed. After the fix was discovered, a new judge was brought in — Mr. Toomin, who ordered a new trial, at which Aleman was convicted.
In another big case, the judge sentenced Chicago gang kingpin Jeff Fort, founder of the Blackstone Rangers that evolved into the El Rukn gang leader in 1988 to 75 years in prison term for murder. In handing down the sentence, he said Fort had ordered “the systematic liquidation of persons who might be out on 43rd Street” selling drugs on his turf.
He also sent stable owner Kenneth Hansen in 1995 to prison, with a sentence o more than 200 years, for the 1955 killings of three boys — Robert Peterson and brothers John and Anton Schuessler — a crime that terrified parents across Chicago.
In another case, he refused in 2000 to appoint a special prosecutor to look into the handling by police and prosecutors of the botched murder investigation of 11-year-old Ryan Harris. The judge ruled that they had good reason to file charges against two boys, ages 7 and 8, that later were dropped.
In the first of two more recent high-profile cases, Mr. Toomin appointed former U.S. Attorney Dan K. Webb special prosecutor in 2012 to reinvestigate the killing of 21-year-old David Koschman. Koschman’s mother Nanci Koschman had asked for a special prosecutor after a Chicago Sun-Times investigation cast doubt on the handling of the case by the Chicago Police Department and the Cook County state’s attorney’s office.
Mr. Toomin agreed and named Webb. His investigation resulted in an involuntary manslaughter indictment against Richard J. “R.J.” Vanecko, a nephew of former Mayor Richard M. Daley — Vanecko pleaded guilty — and disciplinary measures against and the forced retirements of key cops involved in the case.
In 2020, the Cook County Democratic Party refused to endorse Mr. Toomin for reelection, with party leaders citing concerns over his views on juvenile justice. Others saw the move as payback for his appointment of a special prosecutor to look into how Cook County State’s Attorney Kim Foxx’s office handled the case of Jussie Smollett, the actor who falsely claimed to have been the victim of a hate attack.
That special prosecutor — Webb again — concluded that prosecutors botched the case. Webb filed new charges against Smollett for making false police reports.
When he retired, Mr. Toomin was presiding judge of the Cook County courts’ juvenile division. In 42 years on the bench, he also served as chief judge of Cook County’s criminal courts. Before becoming a judge, he spent a dozen years as a defense attorney.
Murphy said Mr. Toomin died of an “aggressive cancer” that “spread quickly” — starting a few months ago with “just having a cough” before he was diagnosed.
“It surprised everybody,” Murphy said. “I hated seeing him the way he was the last few days, knowing what a vibrant guy he was. He died in peace.”
Born April 14, 1938, Mr. Toomin was expelled from New Trier High School after he and friends stole a police car for a joy ride. He spent three days in the Cook County Jail for that.
He ended up at Northwestern University after getting his GED in the Marines, then graduated from the DePaul University College of Law in 1967.
After practicing law with his father, he became a judge in 1980.
Mr. Toomin often spent Wednesday nights at the Tripoli Tap for so-called “Toomin nights,” where lawyers in the Cook County public defender’s office, retired judges and others would gather for drinks and stories — though, according to Murphy, the judge “wasn’t much of a drinker.”
He often ate with friends on Sunday nights, telling stories of his days as a “tenacious” trial lawyer. But Mr. Toomin often spent much of his weekends preparing memorandums at home, Murphy said.
“He taught me how to be a trial lawyer, how to act in front of a jury,” Murphy said. “If you were a judge who worked under him, you felt you were lucky. He was always available and really knew his stuff.”
Mr. Toomin enjoyed traveling, sometimes taking friends to Europe. When Murphy’s daughters, the judge’s godchildren, went abroad, he bought them train passes to make travel easier.
Jim Hill, Mr. Toomin’s nephew, said being judge was not an expected part of his uncle’s future when the justice was younger.
“There was a time they didn’t think he would do anything,” Hill said. “It was an interesting path to get him to where he was.”
Hill said their “small but close” family was together often, with Mr. Toomin seeing his parents every week until they died. After that, he’d come visit Hill and his family in San Francisco for Christmas.
Hill said his uncle had a “rambunctious side,” carried over from his youth, that sometimes could be seen in pranks on his mother, including wearing a gorilla mask to scare her. That would usually get him the response: “Michael, you fool!”
“For us, he was bigger than life,” Hill said. “You realize deep down he has a wild spirit and liked to enjoy himself. It’s hard to believe he’d climb up on the bench and be serious and exceptionally good at his job. We knew him as our fun uncle.”
Though Mr. Toomin’s “life was the law,” Hill said his uncle also had wanted to write the “next great American novel” in retirement but had gotten stuck after getting only as far as the preface. Hill said it would have been related to the law.
Services are being planned, Hill said, with burial in Glencoe, near Mr. Toomin’s sister and parents.
Contributing: Tim Novak
