Jeremy Gorner and Annie
SweeneyContact Reporters
Chicago Tribune
William Hanhardt, a
once-heralded cop who became the highest ranking Chicago police official
convicted of wrongdoing for running a sophisticated crew of jewelry thieves who
stole millions, died early Friday. He was 88.
Hanhardt, of north suburban
Deerfield, died about 3 a.m. at Highland Park Hospital after suffering from
complications of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, according to his
son-in-law, Joel Levin.
Over three decades, Hanhardt
worked his way up Chicago police to the rank of chief of detectives, before he
pleaded guilty in October 2001 to running a theft ring that stalked jewelry
salesmen throughout the country and stole more than $5 million in diamonds and
gems in the 1980s and 1990s.
In 2002, when he was
originally sentenced to 16 years in federal prison, prosecutors accused him of
being in "the mob's pocket" for virtually his entire career.
At his sentencing, a hearing
that lasted four days, Hanhardt, wearing a bright orange federal prison
jumpsuit, expressed no remorse but rather spoke of his pride of being a police
officer, including the days he walked into the federal courthouse, according to
a Tribune account of the hearing.
"I still have the same
amount of pride for this building and our criminal justice system," he
told U.S. District Judge Charles Norgle Sr., who a day later handed down the
sentence to Hanhardt.
At the sentencing, Norgle
said he took into account 18 letters he received from family and friends,
praising the loyalty and love of Hanhardt's family.
"We are not at all
ashamed of our father," Edward Hanhardt told reporters as the family left
the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse. "We stand behind him as a family and we are
very proud of him."
Former U.S. Attorney Patrick
Fitzgerald called the case "a remarkable chapter in the history of law
enforcement" in Chicago.
But in 2004, Hanhardt was
resentenced to 11 years and nine months in prison after a federal appeals court
found that Norgle erred in finding that Hanhardt obstructed justice when he
failed to appear in court in 2001 because of a suicide attempt.
Hanhardt had a storied
33-year police career, with a reputation as a cop's cop with an uncanny ability
to solve crimes. But as he rose through the ranks, eventually becoming a deputy
superintendent, he was dogged by alleged ties to organized crime.
Levin, Hanhardt's son-in-law,
said Friday that despite his crimes, he should still be remembered for his
dedication to service as a Chicago cop.
"Look at all the good
things he did in his career," Levin, citing Hanhardt's commendations, said
in a phone interview. "He helped people throughout Chicago."
Hanhardt's crew used
meticulous planning and pinpoint timing to steal jewels from traveling
salesmen.
For example, a Chicago-area
jewelry salesman stopped in 1984 at a Holiday Inn in Glendale, Wis., a
Milwaukee suburb, parked and locked his Mercedes-Benz by the front door and
went inside to use the bathroom. When he came out minutes later, the car was
gone, retired Glendale police Capt. James Dandoy, who investigated the case,
told the Tribune in 2011. Police found the car three blocks away with $310,000
in watches missing from the trunk, Dandoy recalled.
The thieves had used a valet
key they copied while the car was at a repair shop.
The crew also showed
patience. Months before a hotel hosted a trade show for jewelers, the crew
worked to distract hotel clerks and make duplicate keys for the safety-deposit
boxes where salesmen would store gems.
"It was a very
sophisticated kind of conduct, the kind you usually just see in the movies and
on TV shows," Eric Sussman, a former prosecutor on the case, said in 2011,
when Hanhardt was moved to a halfway house on Chicago's Near West Side after
serving time in a federal prison in Terre Haute, Ind.
After retiring from the
Chicago Police Department in 1986, Hanhardt tapped a Chicago police sergeant
and a detective to access law enforcement computers to help him gather
intelligence about jewelry salesmen targeted for theft.
At Hanhardt's 2002 sentencing
hearing, authorities also disclosed that in 1996 he asked another detective to
keep him posted on a joint investigation with federal authorities on the
importation of cocaine from South America. Prosecutors at the time said federal
authorities felt the investigation had been compromised.
Hanhardt's lawyer, Jeffrey
Steinback, on Friday did not want to talk about the case. But he said his
former client was first and foremost always concerned about other people close
to him.
"Whenever circumstances
arose for us to speak, he always insisted on asking how I was," Steinback
said. "And he was absolutely genuine about that."
Steinback said Hanhardt's
time in prison was "extraordinarily difficult" because of his health,
but he never expressed bitterness about his ailments.
"He had an enormous, an
immense physical strength even in his later years that was only shown by his
mental toughness," Steinback said. "I think that it was mental
toughness that enabled him to endure and got him home to the people he
loved."
Once he completed his
sentence, Levin said, Hanhardt sought to put the crimes behind him. He had
seven children, 18 grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren, Levin said.
Hanhardt had just turned 88 earlier this month and celebrated his birthday with
his family.
"He was a family man and
his family meant most to him," Levin said.
Funeral services are being
planned.
jgorner@chicagotribune.com
asweeney@chicagotribune.com
Twitter @JeremyGorner
Twitter @annie1221
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