John Maloney: Cop Botches an Arson

Sandy Maloney’s Troubled Life Ends at Her Husband’s Hand
(‘Burning Desire,’ Forensic Files)

Sandy Maloney in high school

While watching Burning Desire, I was waiting for Peter Thomas to remind us that “fire doesn’t destroy evidence, it creates new evidence.” But maybe that rule isn’t so important in Sandy Maloney’s murder case.

Her husband, John Maloney, killed her in a fit of anger and tried to burn the house down to cover up his crime. But the evidence didn’t consist of newly created clues — the fire left enough pre-existing things partially intact to reveal what happened at the Green Bay, Wisconsin house.

Investigators found, for example, remnants of tissues stuffed into the cracks of the sofa, presumably to help spread the flames. The biggest smoking gun was what they found on Sandy’s body.

Loyal progeny. Marks on her back and neck and a blunt-force wound definitely didn’t come from the fire.

Prosecutors connected the dots persuasively at the subsequent murder trial, where a jury convicted John.

Young John Maloney

But the case was never strong enough for three observers: Sandy and John’s sons. One of them, Matt Maloney, appeared on the Forensic Files episode in 2004.


Horrifying discovery. For this post, I looked for the reasons Matt and his younger brothers defended their father and whether John has attracted any other supporters over the years. I also checked on John’s incarceration status.

So let’s get going on the recap of “Burning Desire” along with extra information from internet research:

On February 10, 1998, Lola Cator went to visit her 40-year-old daughter, Sandy Maloney. She found Sandy’s living room filled with soot from a fire and Sandy dead on a couch. “My daughter is all burned up,” Lola told the 911 operator.

A good start. Sandy’s oldest son, Matt Maloney, learned about the tragedy when he came home from school and heard his father, age 41, crying.

It was a sad end to what had begun as a solid relationship. John and Sandy met and dated in Preble High School and then married when they were around 21. John started in the police cadet program in 1979 and later became an arson investigator for the Green Bay police.

It’s not clear whether Sandy worked outside the home, but she and John had three sons to occupy her bandwidth.

Desperate game. By the 1990s, Sandy had developed psychiatric problems and had become addicted to painkillers after a back injury, according to Forensic Files, although 48 Hours said that it was neck pain that drove her to abuse pills.

Matt, Sean, and Aaron Maloney in their early teens
Matt Maloney with younger brothers Sean and Aaron

The depth of Sandy’s addiction wasn’t a secret. After she could no longer obtain medication legally, she would ask her sons to supply her when they were sick — and the pharmacist insisted on supervising the kids while they swallowed the pills.

But Sandy persuaded Matt to hide the pills under his tongue and give them to her later, according to to his interview on the 48 Hours episode ” A Question of Murder.”

At some point, Sandy started drinking heavily too. She liked vodka.

Disapproving mother-in-law. Matt told Forensic Files that her substance abuse was swallowing the family’s budget and that Sandy cut herself off socially. In 1997, she totaled the family car. That’s when John moved out and took Matt, Aaron, and Sean with him.

Lola Cator, however, pointed to John’s temper as at least part of the problem in the marriage. She said that John hated Sandy.

At the time of the fire, Sandy was living alone at the family’s former house on Huth Street.

Medical examiner Greg Schmunk determined that someone who died in a fire would have a higher carbon monoxide level and more soot in her lungs than Sandy did.

Not highly intoxicating. The bruising on her back and neck suggested someone had been applying pressure there. The bruise on the back of her head could have come from an ashtray that was found broken at the crime scene.

Investigators believed Sandy was dead before the fire. And it wasn’t drinking-related. Tests revealed that Sandy had a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit — but not enough to cause fatal alcohol poisoning.

Houses in the Huth Street neighborhood where the Maloneys lived
The Maloneys and their sons lived on Huth Street in Green Bay

A bloodstained shirt belonging to her was found under some other clothes in the laundry room, a good clue because Sandy had only a bra on when her mother found her body. There were no signs of a break-in, and the only two keys to the house belonged to Sandy and John, investigators said. John, however, said he didn’t have a key.

Problematic household. But he did have a motive. The divorce would have meant $450 a month in alimony plus half of all monetary assets for Sandy. Special prosecutor Joe Paulus would later allege that John was tired of paying Sandy’s mortgage and other bills and he was deeply in debt.

Aside from John’s three sons, not many people were feeling particularly protective of him.

“Everyone in the community just turned against my dad,” Matt Maloney told 48 Hours.

According to the Green Bay Press-Gazette, some neighbors found the Maloneys’ household troublesome well before Sandy’s death. Officers were called to the house 16 times over the years, sometimes because Sandy phoned them about a domestic row or a prowler. Other times, folks who lived on Huth Street summoned police because of concerns about what was happening inside the Maloney household.

Co-workers distance themselves. Still, they didn’t expect anything like a homicide. “We thought we had a decent neighborhood, a safe neighborhood because we had the police living just a couple doors away,” one resident told the Press-Gazette.

John’s colleagues at the Green Bay police had to conduct the investigation — and they seemed more concerned about the harm to their reputation than about their co-worker’s predicament.

“The acts of one person shouldn’t be reflective of the other 250 who work down there,” Steve Darm, president of the local police officers’ union, would later tell the Press-Gazette.

Sandy Cator and John Maloney in happier days

‘It’s all bunk.’ John was sometimes uncooperative with police investigating Sandy Maloney’s murder. The department deemed him insubordinate and put him on paid suspension.

State authorities came in to help with the investigation.

John claimed he wasn’t inside Sandy’s house the night of the fire. His sons Sean and Aaron would tell 48 Hours that their father was with them, putting together bunk beds for their room at their new home on Menlo Park Road.

Secret tapes. John’s girlfriend, Tracy Hellenbrand, a 28-year-old IRS agent, at first provided an alibi for John, but once police started talking about her as an accessory, she said she was asleep on the night of Sandy’s death, and she didn’t know where John was then.

She agreed to record her conversations with John. At first he denied involvement in Sandy’s death. Later, when police put video recording equipment in Tracy and John’s room at the Lady Luck Hotel in Las Vegas, John admitted he was in the apartment the night of the fire; he had entered via a side door around 3 a.m.

The video from the hotel shows John repeatedly calling Tracy a bitch and looming over her in a menacing way. His ugly side was on full display.

In July 1998, after prosecutors reviewed the tapes, they called for John Maloney’s arrest. When John opened the door to his room at the Continental Hotel in Las Vegas and saw cops, he appeared ready to make a run for it. They sprayed him with mace and then arrested him without further incident.

Tracy Hillenbrand

Completely overpowered. Led by prosecutor Joe Paulus, the authorities laid out a case that the night Sandy died, she and John argued about the terms of their split — and specifically the fact that Sandy was delaying the divorce by not showing up for court dates.

John hit her over the head with an object — possibly a broken ashtray found in the living room — in anger and then panicked. The 6-foot-1-inch-tall John strangled or otherwise suffocated her by pressing on her back and neck face down on the couch and set the fire to hide the evidence, the prosecution contended. John stuffed tissues in the seams of the sofa and staged the scene to look as though a cigarette dropped by accident caused the flames; he might have used vodka as an accelerant.

Matt Maloney defended his father, saying that Sandy often had bruises from falling when she was drunk. Sean said that if anyone was violent in the relationship, it was Sandy, who would sometimes strike out at John in anger.

Sons distraught. Defense lawyer Gerald Boyle contended that Tracy Hillenbrand killed Sandy to eliminate her as a rival. Retired investigator Randy Winkler testified that the fire was the work of an amateur. The flames did, afterall, burn themselves out before they destroyed the evidence.

In his closing argument, Boyle referred to Tracy as a liar, fraud, and scum bag.

It was a daring ploy that didn’t work.

A jury found John guilty of first-degree intentional homicide, arson, and mutilation of a corpse, and he received a life sentence. Courtroom footage showed his two younger sons crying when they heard the verdict.

Shifting story. Gin Maloney, John’s sister, cared for Matt, Sean, and Aaron after John went away, according to Cinemaholic, which reports that the boys are keeping a low profile but have continued to believe in their father’s innocence.

John’s own legal salvos over the years have included the ever-popular ineffective counsel; he said his lawyers should have done more to block the showing of the hotel video.

In 2007, he tried switching up the narrative presented at the trial; he claimed Sandy’s death was an accident rather than a murder.

Sandy Maloney toward the end of her life

Bullied into talking? He nabbed the help of innocence advocate Sheila Berry — who also advocated for Steven Avery of Making a Murderer fame —and founded the Truth in Justice organization. Berry had worked with the flamboyant Joe Paulus earlier in her career and believed that he enjoyed sensationalizing the Maloney case. (Reporters called Paulus “Hollywood Joe.” It was thought that he was aiming to become a U.S. Attorney with all his theatrics.)

As for the videotaped footage, John would later tell 48 Hours that Tracy browbeat him into saying that he was at Sandy’s house the night of the her death, and it wasn’t true. At some point, John’s supporters claimed that Paulus had manipulated the tapes to make it sound as though John confessed to being in the house.

Truth in Justice also put forth a theory that Sandy was trying to commit suicide the night she died. Sandy, the group suggested, tried to hang herself with a cord found hung up like a noose in the house. After that effort failed, she died from an accidental fire caused by her smoking, Truth in Justice contended.

Staying put. By 2020, John had scored another advocate — his new wife, Kimberly Bostwick. She defended him via a Change.org petition, which reads in part: “A corrupt prosecutor, Joseph Paulus, transformed the sad death of a suicidal alcoholic/addict into media-driven murder and an arson case which turned the justice system upside down.”

So far, Kimberly’s efforts haven’t hit pay dirt. And John won’t be receiving more help from Sheila Berry. She died at the age of 74 in 2021. Truth in Justice no longer maintains a website.

John Maloney in a recent prison photo

John was turned down for parole 2024.

Today, he resides in the OshKosh Correctional Institution in Waupun, Wisconsin. All three of his sons still live in the state.

A little satisfaction. The Department of Corrections says that John is eligible for parole consideration on February 10, 2027.

Although it didn’t ultimately do anything to help John’s case, John did get to see prosecutor Joe Paulus go down in flames, when Paulus pleaded guilty to accepting bribes for fixing cases after an FBI investigation in 2004. Paulus had to serve jail time.

Sandy’s mother, Lola Cator, is 93 years old today. Sadly, she lost another child, Brad Cator, in 2014. Lola has a presence on social media and posted a tribute to her late daughter on Facebook two years ago.

That’s all for this post. Until next time, cheers. RR


Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon

Forensic Files Unraveled: Series and Genre Explained

Some What’s and How’s
(Forensic Files)

This week, instead of recapping an episode of Forensic Files, I’d like to explain a bit about the series itself and the genre it inhabits.

Forensic Files executive producer Paul Dowling

Despite that the show has been around for 20 years and is broadcast in 142 countries, a lot of prospective viewers mistakenly lump it in with other TV fare related to crime.

Forensic Files is a straight-up true-crime series as opposed to the wholly fictional crime dramas (such as CSI ) that dominate network TV.

It also differs from made-for-TV movies (Like Mother Like Son: The Strange Story of Sante and Kenny Kimes) that are based on real crimes but also may take dramatic license by making up dialogue and creating composite characters.

Classifying. True-crime shows feature interviews with the real-life investigators and lawyers who worked on the cases and friends and family members of the victims.

These series can’t pack in every element of the story, but they don’t fabricate any either. On the Case with Paula Zahn, 48 Hours Mystery, and certain Dateline NBC shows fall into this category.

Forensic Files belongs to the same genre, but there’s no Erin Moriarty or Keith Morrison hosting the show or appearing on camera during interviews.

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Each 30-minute Forensic Files episode is a mini documentary told in a whodunit format with off-camera narration by Peter Thomas. It includes some re-creations of events, but they’re labeled as such and don’t take liberties.

Nothing tawdry. And the producers of Forensic Files have taken pains to make the shows tasteful. You won’t see any interviewees melt down and become hysterical on camera.

And the producers never make viewers wince through oversexualized reenactments with low production values.

“There’s something in TV called ‘permission to watch,'” Forensic Files executive producer Paul Dowling explained an interview with True Crime Truant. “We provide a show you can leave on if your 8-year-old daughter and her friends come in the room.”

If you’ve never seen Forensic Files, you probably haven’t been looking too hard. You can find it somewhere on any given day.

Netflix streaming, Amazon Prime, Hulu, Roku, Apple TV, HLN (which has regular marathon showings), and the Escape channel are a few of the outlets that carry the show. And most of the episodes have been uploaded to YouTube.

Media critic Robert Thompson is a Forensic Files fan

There are 400 episodes of Forensic Files produced from 1996 to 2011. The show is not going away anytime soon, in part because the producers avoided crimes involving celebrities.

“Most viewers don’t know what the cases are, so the Forensic Files episodes don’t get boring,” says Robert Thompson, director of the Bleier Center for Television & Popular Culture at Syracuse University.

And speaking of gripping content, here’s some exciting news: Next week’s post will be a Q&A drawn from an in-depth interview that Forensic Files creator Paul Dowling gave to True Crime Truant.

Dowling divulges some behind-the-scenes secrets and discusses his relationship with the great and unpretentious voice-over artist Peter Thomas.

Photo of the book Forensic Files Now
BOOK IN STORES AND ONLINE

Cautionary words. And he offers some safety tips that I’ve never heard — advice that can help you remain a fan of true-crime shows rather than the subject of one.

Until next Thursday, cheers. RR


Update: Read the Q&A with Forensic Files executive producer Paul Dowling.

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Opening Statement

Welcome to a new blog devoted to true-crime entertainment — starting with my favorite TV series, Forensic Files.

Since it began in 1996, Forensic Files has rendered me helpless to hit the off button, even during four-hour marathons of episodes I’ve already seen three times.

But why? I have only a marginal interest in the likes of mitochondrial DNA and medium-velocity blood splatter — the scientific content that is the reason for the show’s existence.

The first reason I like the show is structure. The writers and editors tell the story in a compact way in 30 minutes, without the pre-commercial teasers and other repetition that network true-crime shows use to pad themselves into an hour or two.

Next, it fascinates me that people who look and act like PTA moms and dads — the kind of folks who would feel guilty about grabbing the last cupcake in the office break-room — can dial down their consciences enough to murder their spouses and make their own children half-orphans.

I guess the series’ No. 1 attraction is the biographical element of the stories. The late narrator Peter Thomas told the show’s tales compassionately yet without exploiting the victims or manipulating viewers’ emotions.

But what about what happens after the closing music? The sentence-long epilogues that the producers have started adding to the closing credits are great — but I want more. I need more.

What happened to Pearl Cruz, the 15-year-old whose father used her as an accomplice to murder a beloved teacher (“Transaction Failed”)? How is Deborah Pignataro — who survived her husband’s attempt to kill her via massive doses of arsenic (“Bad Medicine”) — getting along today?

And I have a few legal questions, too. How did Ron Gillette, who murdered his wife by pressing her face into a plastic bag (“Strong Impressions”), get out of jail after only 15 years? Why did Clay Daniels — before he made headlines by plotting with his wife, Molly Daniels, to fake his own death (“Grave Danger”) — receive a sentence of only 30 days for molesting his 7-year-old cousin?

With this blog, I hope to answer those types of questions and invite queries and perspective from other fans of Forensic Files and, in time, explore true-crime movies and books as well. Please come along with me for our own investigation.RR


The first True Crime Truant post: Q&A with former JAG attorney Mark F. Renner, who defended Ron Gillette